


Seeing Red

by mothprism (pastel_wendigo)



Category: Dark Tower - Stephen King, IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, i mean sorta it's implied i guess
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fear, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Original Character(s), Other, Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Slow Burn, cosmic horror, gender neutral reader, guess im in clown hell, it's lowkey tho, the crimson king is there but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-19 13:12:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12410949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel_wendigo/pseuds/mothprism
Summary: Since you were a child you've been haunted by night terrors, and to an extent, something else. For some unexplainable reason, something in you Knows that you and the force holding Derry in Its vice are connected. Every moment this entity is awake the more you discover about yourself, and you're not entirely sure you want to know where it leads.





	1. The Balloon

**Author's Note:**

> just popping in to say thank you so much for reading this ! this is my first reader insert so i hope you enjoy !!
> 
> bonus note: there’s gonna be some general stephen king lore in this every now and then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re joined by an unlikely companion on your way to therapy.

You are awake.

_Breathe. Remember to breathe._

You wrapped your blanket around you as if it couldn't get any closer to your body. You heaved with almost every breath, staring at the walls of your room as you felt the cold sweat on your forehead dry with every passing minute.

_Just breathe._

Hands shaking, you released your grip on the blanket and sat up. You're still shivering, but looking at the time on your phone forced you to sluggishly crawl out out bed. Of all days to wake up like this it had to be the same day as your therapy appointment. You don't have much time to spare, so you rushed through your morning routine. You really gotta remember to set your alarm next time. In the hurry, you managed to snag a granola bar before you made your way out.

The morning air was cool, the sun hidden behind a layer of long, gray clouds. It was times like these when you really appreciated living a few blocks away from your therapist's office. The fresh air felt nice every now and then.

You're not too far from your destination when something catches your eye. It looks like something..red. And it is. It's a single red balloon, its bright hue making it stand out against the bland row of buildings behind it like a sore thumb. Something about the sight feels so familiar. And it's not just because you've seen balloons practically everywhere your whole life. You pay it no mind, balloons aren't an uncommon sight here, or anywhere really. It's only when you realized that you had never stopped walking upon noticing the balloon, and yet it remained in your peripheral vision the entire time.

You couldn't explain why, but the realization that the balloon was somehow following you made the hair on your arms stand on end. _You're just a little groggy_ , you tell yourself. Feeling your hands clam up in the pockets of your jacket, you pick up your pace a little. So does the red blotch in the corner of your eye.

You're not sure why you thought this was a good idea, or even a solid means of validating whatever you're seeing. But you do it anyway. You stop walking.

The balloon stops too.

You gulp.

If you weren't awake before you are now. It's so still, not even the thin white string moves in the slight breeze that causes the nearby trees to shiver. Whatever you're seeing isn't even outright frightening. Maybe it's just the surreality of it that throws you off.

You tear your eyes away from it for a second, and you notice that you're not too far from the office's entrance. With no one else in sight, you sprint to the door. The balloon stays still on the other side of the sidewalk.

Inside the building, you don't feel any less uneasy. But you're safe. It's still a bit early, but the sun is already starting to peak behind its blanket of clouds, a sliver of its rays sneaking into the dingy waiting room.

By the time your therapist called you inside her office, you had already somewhat forgotten about your strange encounter with the rogue balloon. She's in the middle of pulling a notebook from her desk when she greets you with a warm smile, the creases around her eyes crinkling.

"You've been sleeping well, Y/N?"

Without realizing, you wring your hands. "It's, um."

She gives you a look that almost feels like pity. Almost.

"It's been the same." You don't want to look at her face.

She lets out a soft exhale, placing her hands on her notebook. "Has it gotten any worse?"

You shake your head. "It's? Been the same? I always see the same thing, every time."

"No changes at all?"

You're about to agree but, there has been something new.

"Actually..yeah. Yeah, they've been getting a lot more frequent." Your therapist leans forward in her chair.

"T-they used to only happen a handful of times every couple months right? I've had six in the past two weeks. " You hated that your voice became so shaky every time you talked about this. Not like you could help it, though.

"And the dream never changes! It's always the same shit!" Your therapist shot you the same look a parent would to a child that swore at a dinner table.

"Sorry."

"By all means, let it out." She cleared her throat as she shifted in her chair, flipping through her notes. "So, no changes to the overall dream sequence, yes? Just a feeling of.." she trailed off, seemingly landing on the page she was looking for. "Floating?"

Whenever you thought about it too much, you'd feel the knot of dread form in your gut.

"I mean? Yeah? But it's just," you sigh, trying to gather your thoughts. "It's not just floating. It feels like I'm somewhere else, like I'm being taken somewhere. It feels like nothing, if that makes any sense."

You hear the click of a pen and scratching on paper. She glances up at you, "What about the grabbing?"

"I'm? Not really being grabbed? It feels more like whatever's there wants to. But it can't for some reason?"

"And the ending is still the same? You just see-"

  
"Red. Something red." You unclench clammy fists that you didn't realize you were clenching. And you feel a migraine coming on. That's just great. You should've brought a bottle of water with you.

Your therapist clicks her tongue "Well, I'm glad you've kept up with recording your night terrors at least. And you said this has been going on for how long?"

You run your hands down your face. That headache's really starting to bother you.

"Since I was a kid. 10 or 11, somewhere around there."

You catch your therapist glancing over at the clock on her desk. You figured your time was getting close to ending. It definitely hasn't felt like an hour.

After a moment of silence, she speaks up.

"I know in one of your previous sessions you've mentioned something about missing gaps of time. Is this also as common as your night terrors?"

Your chair feels uncomfortably small all of a sudden.

"No. Not at all it was just, uh," Were your lips chapped this whole time? "It was just one year. I was 9. I think. I'm pretty sure."

"Have you even tried anything to get you to remember? Anything at all? Like talking to a family member or..?"

"Of course I have! But it still feels like something's missing, you know? No matter what I've tried it always feels like I've made no progress at all." You feel tired.

You see your therapist reach over her desk to you, holding out a box of tissues. The feeling of a lukewarm liquid dripping on your hands brings you out of your daze. You grab a tissue.

Your therapist sighs. "Look, I wish we had more time, but before you go I need to ask you something." She clasps both hands together, she has that look she gets whenever she's about to ask you something Deep™.

"I'm still unsure whether there's even a connection between the two,"

You're pretty sure you know what she's trying to get at, and you're not entirely sure if she's right. Then again you're not entirely sure if she's wrong either.

  
"But I have reason to believe that whatever caused your night terrors to start in the first place might have something to do with your missing memories."

There it is.

"Listen, I'm not sure how open you are to things like this but, how would you feel about using hypnosis?

Well, that you weren't expecting.

"I need your consent beforehand."

You think for a moment. At this point, do you really have a choice?

"If you think it'll help, then, sure. Why not."

You can't believe you agreed to that.

You chide yourself for being so desperate but your night terrors have been around for too long for your tastes. Still, you didn't think you'd ever stoop this low.

Your walk back home feels like forever. Maybe it's the hot, late morning sun that drains you quicker than normal. Or maybe it's because there's more people out at the same time, crowding the sidewalk as they go about their daily lives. For once, it's a welcome sight for you. It's been a weird morning, to say the least.

You're about to pull your phone out from your pocket when you catch a whiff of something..off.

Not off, really, but it catches you abnormally off guard. It's the sickly sweet smell of some type of food. Cotton candy? Maybe even popcorn. But there's something else. It's sour and makes your stomach churn and you almost gag right there where you stand. It's the smell of a sewer carrying into the air after a humid summer day, somehow mixed in with what seems like carnival food in between. You scrunch your nose in disgust.

You continue walking back to your apartment when your eyes wander to the sidewalk opposite from you.

_Fucking hell._

Directly across from you is a single red balloon.

People are walking past it. Through it? No, that's not possible. You look around, desperately trying to find something, anything that could possibly explain why that balloon is there.

_It's just a balloon, Y/N. There's nothing to freak out about._

Realizing that you're kinda blocking the sidewalk, you hesitantly continue on your way. Against all better judgement, you feel compelled to follow it. It'd be so easy. Cross the street, grab it by that thin unmoving string and pop it yourself. But you don't.

You only take one quick glance back, and you're relieved to see that balloon isn't following you this time. A part of you is disappointed.

 

 

**March 1988**

The wind rustled the crisp grass beneath your feet. The sun beat down on you, causing a small drop of sweat to fall from your brow. Your small hands grasped at the planks that made up your backyard's fence, pulling yourself (or attempting to) higher to peek above it and into the wooded area behind your home.

You're 9 years old, and there's a red balloon in your backyard.

It's standing stock still just outside your fence, half hidden in the trees that set apart your neighborhood from the forest surrounding Derry, Maine. Looking behind your shoulder for any sign of your parents, you climb the fence.

You stumble on your way back down, landing on your knees and dirtying them just a bit. The balloon seems to glow so bright compared to the dull green of the pines behind it. You're about to grab the long string that seems to tether it to the ground when it pulls away from your touch, almost as if an invisible force tugged it further into the woods. You huffed, taking a few steps forward and trying to go for another grab. The invisible hand pulled back farther.

Well that was unfair!

You're about to take another step toward the balloon when it moves faster and farther into the trees. You take another glance back at your home. No parents.

You run after the balloon as fast as you can carry yourself, making sure not to stumble on the twigs beneath you. Suddenly, the balloon exits your field of vision. Did the wind take it away?

You sigh. It was worth a shot, you tell yourself. You're about to walk back to your yard when you hear the snap of a branch from behind you.

"Looking for this?"

You gasp, turning around only to be greeted by a large, gloved hand outstretched before your face. In It's fingers is the long string of the red balloon. Your eyes light up.

"You found it!" you say, clapping your hands together as you stare into the balloon's reflective surface.

The man, no, the clown standing hunched over in front of you lets out a giggle. "You want. It?" It says, the grin on Its face widening even more than it already was. You nod, paying no mind to the way Its eyes slowly drift out of place, or the drool that sluggishly seeps out of the thing's bucktoothed mouth. Like the overly eager child you are, your arms stretch out to grab the balloon. Your fingers brush Its own, and before you even have a chance to grasp the balloon the clown takes Its hand away, a low hiss escaping Its lips. Your face falls.

You have a better look at It now. Its clothes are ragged, dirty, as if whoever It was just finished rolling around in the dirt. Its hair sticks up in three odd curls, you'd laugh at It's appearance but your parents told you not to be rude to strangers, so you decided against it. Standing this close to the clown, you catch a whiff of something sweet. Cotton candy? You realize you're kinda hungry.

  
Gathering Its composure, the clown speaks "Ah, ah. What do you say?" Its voice cracks as It lets out a short, silly giggle. You resist the urge to cross your arms. Whoever this is, they sound like one of your parents. They sure are getting a kick out of this.

"Can I have the balloon, please?" You kinda want to go back to your house now. The balloon is seeming less enticing with every passing second and you start to wonder whether your parents are calling you back inside now.

The clown gulps, but it goes unnoticed by you. "If you really want one, I have more back at the circus, yes I do!”  Now that's an offer you can't really pass up. When's the last time your parents took you to a circus? You don't even remember. You wring your hands together, it takes all of your power to say this.

  
"You don't have to, mister. I shouldn't be taking stuff from strangers anyway."

Something shifts in the clown's attitude, you can't quite place it, but it's so tangible in the air it's suffocating.

"Oh," It says in the saddest tone it can muster. "Well, I'm Pennywise, the dancing clown!" back to its previous demeanor, It flourishes the statement with a quick bow, and the sound of bells jingling echo through the trees.

It doesn't do much to soothe you.

"M-my parents are probably wondering where I am."

Just as you finish speaking, you feel two strong hands pick you up from under your arms.

"There you are, sweetheart! What were you doing all the way back here? You know you're not big enough to go exploring all on your own." It was your father.

You turn to look behind you only to find that the stranger you were talking to only seconds ago was gone. You furrow your brow in confusion.

"Who were you talking to kiddo? One of your imaginary friends?"

You don't say anything. So you nod.

You can feel your father's hand pushing you to go back inside your house, but you take one last glance back into the woods. And you see It.

It's standing right where the balloon was. Just behind the fence, right at the edge of the trees. In one hand is the balloon, the other is occupied with waving at you. You feel a shiver run down your spine.

With a giggle that you don't remember being so unnerving minutes ago, the balloon in Its hand pops just as the door to your backyard closes behind you. You never return to the woods that summer.


	2. The Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a weird nap, and a weirder visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one also ended up a little long oops
> 
> WARNING: minor/not detailed animal death in this chapter’s flashback

You close the door to your apartment behind you, letting out an exasperated exhale as you toss your jacket on the seat before you, tugging your shoes off as well. You follow shortly after, plopping yourself down on the worn out sofa that had definitely seen better days, springs aching as it relaxed into the weight of your body. You ran your hands down your face. The afternoon grew closer with each minute you stayed there and messed with your phone, and the only thing you had to eat that whole day was 3/4 of a granola bar. But you weren't really that hungry.

You sigh at nothing in particular, setting your phone down on the small coffee table in front of you and settling deeper into the couch. It's not as comfortable as your bed, but anything is welcome at the moment.

Within minutes, you can feel yourself drift off into a haze of sleep, the sounds around you becoming muted and the couch much softer than it was a short time ago.

 

  
It starts just how it always does.

A feeling of floating, nothing around you but an invisible void that feels like everything and nothing all at once. But this one's different. You're not scared, and you're not alone. You're not even sure how you're able to see anything in here but it's more of a feeling. You can't speak, you've never been  able to when you're here. You've always been the spectator of your own dreams.

Whatever's in here with you feels closer, like a lazy wave passing over the head of someone underwater. Unlike any of your void-dreams, you feel calm. Inhumanly calm, as if the thing above and around you is lending you some of its own serenity. Whatever disorientation you might've felt while floating aimlessly in space is gone. For the first time in years, your head feels right.

Then, out from the void emerges a shape. It's like looking through warped glass but you can clearly make out the shape of an animal. It's a turtle. But it's huge, bigger than a whale, hell it's bigger than anything on earth. 

And it's beautiful.

As it drifts past you, clear as a placid lake you can almost make out what seems like a reflection of your own planet in place of its shell. At least, that what it looks to be.

You've never seen anything like this. You get the feeling not many have.

  
The creature seems like it's sleeping, drowsily making its way through the endless vacuum of whatever space you two are in. Almost as if it knew you were silently observing it, the turtle's head peeks further out of its shell, one eye lazily drifting open and focusing on your small form.

You've never felt so small.

Whatever it is, it doesn't seem particularly concerned with you being there. It's eye is like staring into a mirror, you can just see yourself there in its pupil. You don't know where it comes from, but you hear a sound. You're not sure how you know it's the creature behind the voice, but the turtle speaks.

Its voice, if you can even call it that, sounds like a cacophony of all ages with no discernible gender speaking at once. And it only speaks to you once.

_Hiding might be difficult when you shine that bright, child._

  
Suddenly, the atmosphere around you changes. The void changes, it's angry and it knows you're here. Something tells you that you were not supposed to have seen that turtle. Like with the rest of your night terrors, you see that flash of Red and out of nowhere, you hear a sharp noise. A pop? Whatever it is, it shatters your void and against your will you are jostled awake.

You take in sharp breaths, your body shivering despite it being comfortably warm within the room. Your ears are ringing and your heart is beating much too fast, you lean your head on the couch. You can feel that headache from earlier is coming back in acute waves. It takes a few minutes of just sitting in silence, but you're back to normal you think.

You're not really sure how to process whatever the fuck happened in your dream. Nightmare? You settle for dream. Although you can't shake the aftershocks that surreal mess left you with, you decide not to dwell on it. Dreams are just like that.

You stand up from the couch. It's past 12, and you're starving. As your feet make contact with the floor, you feel something beneath them. Something that isn't the smooth hardwood floor. You grudgingly look below you, and you feel a layer of sweat form on your arms. Underneath your feet are the shattered remains of a red balloon, long white string still attached.

Your headache is pounding in your skull now, your once again shaky hands picking up the tattered pieces of rubber and you make your way into your kitchen. You've seen enough red balloons in one day to be sick of them for a good while. You toss it into the trashcan with too much spite for just throwing away something as mundane as a balloon.

You're hungry. Your head hurts. The day isn't even over yet.

You decide it's about time you actually feed yourself today.

You're rummaging through your fridge, scavenging like one of the raccoons you'd see going through your apartment's dumpster every now and then when you smell something. At first you think something might've gone bad but upon closer inspection, the source of the phantom odor definitely wasn't in your fridge. You knew what it was though. The nauseating combination of sweet sugar and what could only be burnt popcorn permeated your whole kitchen. You wanted to barf.

"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me." you say, face scrunched up in disgust as you shut the refrigerator door. You just haven't gotten a break today, have you. You turn to leave the kitchen altogether when you feel something tighten around your throat.

You don't have a chance to respond before your slammed on the hard tile floor like a ragdoll. You're doing your best to kick at whoever - whatever's on top of you but you feel something weighing them down, and just like that you're rendered practically immobile.

"Another dollar for the swear jar, Y/N?" It let out a giggle that echoed throughout the room.

Something about Its voice sent chills throughout your whole body. The way it wavered as if it were mocking you unsettled you to your core. A choked sob escapes your lips as you see the beginnings of tears form at the edge of your eyes. You're doing everything you can to push It off of you, your arms flailing against its own, even going so far as to attempt to slap its face but the most it does is smile wider. It's enjoying this.

Your vision is blurred, and the air in your lungs rapidly declining doesn't make it any easier, but you can definitely see the thing that's on top of you. It's a clown, no, a man dressed as a clown? Ignoring the fact how otherworldly It looks, something tells you that the thing choking you on your kitchen floor couldn't possibly be human.

Whatever It is, you can't stop staring at it's fiery bloodshot eyes, one slowly but surely drifting out of place as a long string of drool drips from its jaws and down onto your shirt. You feel sick. The clown's face drops closer to yours, Its acrid breath hitting your face.

"W-w-what," you can barely get one word out. You feel pathetic. "W-what do you-"

In its derisive, sing-song voice it copies you, fake crying for extra emphasis. You're not sure if the heat you feel on your cheeks is from the lack of air or pure embarrassment.

The grip on your neck loosens. As if it can read your thoughts, the clown bursts into a fit of laughter. You can feel one of it's uncomfortably large hands travel from your neck to your face, roughly cupping your cheek while wiping the tears that pour down your face. With every touch you let out a cry for help, but that just seems to encourage it.

"Let's be polite, now. Is this how you treat all your old friends?" as if It were proud of itself for coming up with such an unwarranted clapback, the clown giggled, the bells that adorned its suit jingling along with it.

Your brow furrows in confusion and fear. "I, I don't - I don't k-know you."

Almost as if you flipped a switch, the thing's demeanor changes. And it's painfully obvious.

Its malicious fraud of a smile falls, its already frowning face becoming a full-blown grimace. Both of Its eyes focus on your face. It's so close now, you can feel your heaving chest brush against the puffy buttons that adorned the thing's costume. You don't want to look at It, but you can't look away either. Not with the clown holding your face and neck in place, nails digging through its scratchy gloves and into your skin.

"You will." the clown's voice somehow became deeper, steadier. It was angry.

It moves so suddenly you don't even know what's happening until it's too late. It's face is buried in the space between your neck and your shoulder. The clown takes such a deep inhale you wonder when was the last time it breathed. Wait.  _Is it fucking sniffing you._  

Its body shivers, the bells that embellished the thing's ragged costume jingling once more.

You want to cry.

You attempt to crane your neck away from Its awful face, a stunt proven futile as the hand that once had a vice grip around your throat moves to cradle your head, turning it around to face It now. You feel humid breath hit your neck, lukewarm drool sliding from its mouth down to your neck, sticking to your skin in the worst way possible. You hear a low, rumbling chuckle morph into the thing's frenzied laugh. The sound vibrates against your throat, causing the hair on your arms to stand on end.

You'd scream again but your voice is so raw, the most you can do is stare at the clown in wide-eyed horror.

From it's mouth, what was once a pair of uncharacteristically silly buckteeth sprouted needle-like fangs in an uneven row. You could feel their sharp tips brush against the bare skin of your neck, and you bite your lip so hard you can feel yourself drawing blood. Your hands that aimlessly tried to push away the clown gripped onto the thing's neck ruffles, knuckles turning a ghostly pale the harder you clenched your fists.

"That old fool can't help you." It's voice was shaky, cracking with every other syllable but it felt strained. Like It was trying its hardest not to scream in your ear.

You have no idea what the fuck the clown is talking about. Or, maybe you do. You don't know why but something tugging, screaming at the back of your mind is telling you that you know. _You've always known._ But whatever it is doesn't come to you, and you stay silent.

"Not when Pennywise is here." the clown, no, this _thing_ erupts in a fit of riotous laughter. You slam your eyes shut. You don't want to look at It anymore. You don't want to see It, you don't want to feel It, you don't want to hear It. And then the laughter stops.

You reluctantly open your eyes, frantically looking around the room. You're alone. As quickly as that clown-no, it's obviously not a clown. As quickly as It came into your home, It was gone. Though it was already beginning to fade, you could still feel the pressure of hands around your neck.

You lay on the floor of your kitchen in a crying, crumpled mess for an hour or so before you decide to order a pizza.

 

  
**May 1988**

You rest your head on one hand, absentmindedly playing with the now room temperature steamed veggies that lay on your half-finished plate. You shoot a glance over to your mother who's standing over the sink washing her own plate. You put your fork down.

"Hey mom?"

"Yeah, hon?"

You're kinda regretting this now that you think about it but you've gotten too far to backtrack anything. "Do you think >your pet's name<'s gonna come back soon?"

Your mother doesn't move, the rush of water from the sink becoming all too quiet. She quietly sighs, shoulders slumping just enough that it's barely even noticeable.

"Sweetie, we already told you, they ran away. They're probably in a bigger lake by now."

You pout. You only had that turtle for almost a year, and it only vanished a few days ago but you still missed it dearly. Why would it have moved to some dirty pond outside when you were taking good care of it here? It just didn't make any sense. The least they could do was visit you.

Wherever it was, you hope it was having a good time.

The next morning, your scream wakes up your parents before their alarm does. They rush into your bedroom, and you run to them. You're crying, your eyes are shut but tears still managed to run down your face. Your try to hide yourself in your mother's shoulder, screaming at your father to not look in the tank. Don't make the mistake you did.

You don't see it, but your father gags upon looking at your turtle's gruesome remains that were haphazardly placed within the tank. Even the lid was left slightly ajar, as if whoever put it there was in some hurry.

You never did find out who did that to poor >your pet's name<. And never would (at least, you tell yourself you wouldn't). Even now you can't really look at a turtle without feeling some kind of heartache.

It was for the best though. It couldn't allow that turtle to be watching you while you slept. Only It was allowed to do that.


	3. The Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a little longer than I expected but I was in a sort of writing funk (which is why this ended up being a little short oops)  
> thank you so much for reading !!

It had been a week, and you were no less paranoid than you were the day you woke up after your encounter with..whatever the hell that thing was. You hadn't seen It since, thankfully. But that didn't stop an abundance of weird things from happening every so often.

The feeling of being watched was near constant, and coupled with the fact that random objects would go missing without a trace, you actually hated being home. There was one upside to all this. You hadn't had any dreams since you saw the clown, and if you did then you didn't remember them. It wasn't the  _best_  sleep you had ever gotten, but it was a welcome relief.

This particular morning was brisk, the wind biting at your face. The leaves that littered the ground crunched with every step. The clouds were painted in light purples and pinks by the morning sun. All puns aside, it was a chill morning. Though, walking down the sidewalk to your therapist's office, you felt anxious. You knew what you agreed to, but after mulling it over for the past couple days, you weren't so confident in your decision. If anything, this was the least weird thing to happen to you but that didn't quell your anxiety any more.

You were almost at your destination when you felt compelled to look across the street. The same street where your bizarre encounters began. You were half-expecting to see that dumb balloon again, but to your relief there was nothing. It still didn't shake the feeling of being watched.

This particular time you didn't have to wait to be called in. She greeted you with that same warm smile, notebook already sitting open on her desk with a pen at its side.

"Morning, Y/N. If you don't mind could you take a seat over here for today?" she gestured to the long sofa by the window on her left. It wasn't as comfortable as it looked. It was stiff, like it hadn't seen much use in the years that she's had it but it was better than your own. You made yourself as comfortable as you could.

"How's your week been? Have a good sleep?"

Your body tensed. If you were certain of  _one_  thing, it was that you were absolutely Not going to tell her about your encounter with..whatever that clown thing was.

"It's been, uh," you cleared your throat. "It's been alright. I haven't had any night terrors lately, so," you shrugged. "I haven't been dreaming at all actually. Not sure if that's an improvement but it's something."

She scribbled something into the fresh page of her notebook.

"Alright, I'm not sure how long this is going to take so I'd like to start as soon as your ready, okay?"

You nodded. "I am."

"Remember, the goal here is to take yourself back to that year. Try to see yourself as you were during 1988. Can you do that for me. Y/N?"

You nodded again, closing your eyes and settling into the sofa.

"Focus on my voice, okay? Just breathe."

_Breathe_

_In and out, just breathe_

You were floating. Back in that same void you always found yourself appearing in, but it was different. You were alone, and didn't feel welcome at all. You feel like you're being watched, like you were in danger. You wanted to get out but something was blocking your way.

"Try to go back to 1988, okay Y/N?"

Her voice pulls you from the void, you had something you needed to do. You're not floating anymore, in fact you feel like you're leaving. Are you? No, you're still here, but you're not here at the same time. You see something. You found something.

**June 1988**

You remember the storm. You remember the sound of rushing water pouring into the storm drains. It rained for what seemed like days, flooding the streets of your neighborhood and forcibly holing yourself up in your house until the sun came back. You remember being afraid of the thunder, wincing every time the clamor shook the earth. You hated the way your room rattled when the thunder crashed.

You remember a boy. He was around the same age as you, and you remember seeing him run past your house without a care in the world as the rain whipped around him.

Thinking back on it, that was the last time you saw him. Your parents never talked about it in front of you, but you remember seeing his missing poster around Derry for the next upcoming months. You remember feeling a deep sense of dread whenever you saw those posters, even though 9 year old you didn't really grasp what dread was.

You're unsure why, but something tells you that you  _know_  he wasn't alone that day. He was being hunted.

Before you could remember anything else you feel a pull from the void. You're back to floating. Then you're back in your body. You feel nauseous.

Your speech was slurred "Why did you.." The lights in this room are too bright all of a sudden. "I remembered something, I was fine-"

As your vision clears, you feel a chill run down your spine. Your therapist is looking at you, but it's not your therapist. Did she always have those lines run from the sides of her mouth up to her eyebrows?

"See?" Why did her voice sound like that? Was it always that deep?

"W-What..?"

She's smiling at you. You don't remember her having such awfully uneven teeth.

"SEE?"

You shrink back into your seat, eyes wide with horror "I-I don't..I don't know what you're-"

Before you can finish your thought, the not-therapist laughs. It's the same, spine-chilling cacophony with a lilt that causes a knot of panic to form in your gut. The sound doesn't seem to come from her, as if whatever's laughing is using her as a record player. There's nothing you can say, hell there's nothing that you can do except watch.

"Y/N!"

You feel hands on your shoulders, shaking you from whatever hallucination just took hold of you. Something warm drips from your nose and down your lip, you have a migraine.

"Christ, Y/N are you okay?" She was holding out a tissue to you. You took it.

"Y-Yeah, yeah I'm fine what was-"

"No, I don't think you are. What was that just now?"

You can't find a proper answer. There's no backtracking from this. You shut your eyes and sigh.

"I remembered something. It wasn't a lot but it was  _something_." you pleaded. You hated how shaky your voice sounded.

"That's all well and good, but whatever happened just now can't afford to be happening every time." she rubbed her eyes. "Look, if it's at a risk to your health I just  _can't_. Do you understand?"

The room felt too small, too quiet. It was the kind of silence that made you feel like you wanted to leave your body. You fiddled with your hands and stared at your feet, you couldn't look at her.

"Listen, you must be incredibly drained, so I'll let you leave early. Just get some rest, okay? And stay safe."

The cold morning air was already waning, the sun no longer hidden by the clouds. You had made it safely to your apartment, and you were currently in the process of unchaining your bike. You had nothing else to do for the rest of your afternoon, so why not try to ease off whatever the fuck happened in your therapist's office with a bike ride. It always helped you clear your head when you needed it.

With the wind rushing past your face and through your hair, you felt alright for a moment. It took you about ten minutes to get to the park. It was practically empty for a saturday. Not that you minded.

Passing by the trees that had barely begun to get their leaves back, you thought you heard something. Was that carnival music? It was slow and soft, like it was being carried by the wind but you couldn't place a location. You felt uneasy.

You were about to cross the bridge than ran across a pond when you saw something that made your blood run cold and at the same time somehow boil.

Directly on the other side of the bridge was a red balloon.

Your bike tires screeched. You've  _got_  to be kidding.

Just like last time, it was floating in place. The long string didn't so much as sway in the wind. It seems so corporeal, but you're not sure what to believe. The entire park feels muted. The carnival music in the back of your head grows louder. You want to get closer to the balloon, like it's daring you to. Your knuckles are white as your grip on the bike's handlebars tighten.

You put your feet back on the pedals, and you push yourself towards the balloon. Almost as if it were on cue, it moves forward and out of the park. You leave with it.

This is arguably the worst decision you've made in a while.


	4. The House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You visit an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> real sorry for the delay but I've been kinda busy for the past couple days ! updates aren't regular anyway but I thought I'd just let you guys know  
> also, just a heads up but this chapter ended up Way longer than I meant it to oops  
> thanks so much for reading!!

"Sorry!"

You shout, narrowly avoiding running over a random passerby with your bike as you sped down the sidewalk. The red balloon that led you out of the park was taking you..somewhere. You weren't really given a chance to familiarize yourself with whatever part of town you were in, and the fact that the balloon didn't seem to be slowing down didn't help any. 

Why were you even following this thing? You were the only one that could see it. For all you know it was leading you to what could be your death. Given that red balloons were quickly becoming your personal omen of something weird to come, you had no reason to trust It. Too late now, you guess.

The brisk afternoon air stung your face, it just made it all the more difficult to follow your incorporeal guide. It led you through dirty alleys, twisting streets, and crowded sidewalks for what seemed like ages. You passed downtown Derry entirely, and you were rapidly entering some neighborhood. You didn't recognize it at first, but the paved road that shifted into gravel rang a bell in the back of your head. You never lived on this side of town but you definitely knew where you were now.

The balloon slowed down, abruptly coming to a stop in the center of the unpaved road. You stopped your bike. You knew where it was taking you.

Staring back at you like a haggard gargoyle was the long-since abandoned house on 29 Neibolt Street. The place looked like it was made out of splinters and tetanus, but after all these years had remained a safe haven for teens on a dare and other more seedier intentions. Either way, no human in their right mind should ever want to step foot inside that decrepit excuse for a house.

But the balloon wanted you to.

Speaking of, where did it go? It was right in front of you just a second ago, you had only torn your eyes away from it for a second to look at the house. Like a ghost, it had just vanished. You could feel a cold layer of sweat form on your brow.

"So you took me all the way out here. Just to show me a house. Cool.  _Cool_." you muttered to no one in particular. You were about to pedal away when you heard a creak, like someone had taken a wary step on one of the porch's stairs. You slowly turned around.

Behind the door was the balloon. For a moment, it looked so innocent just floating there in place, peeking out the broken window. It was as if it was inviting you to come inside. You could just turn around, ignore it and go back to your apartment and leave it be. You could look back and say "Hey, Y/N, do you remember when we followed an imaginary balloon to the local crackhouse? Sure glad we didn't do  _that_ , right?" It would be so easy.

You groaned. Slowly, carefully, you parked your bike next to the fence (or what was left of it), chaining it to one of its poles. Whatever this thing wanted to show you, it must mean something. Or maybe you just wanted it to mean something. Whatever the case, you made your way to the porch, stepping over the overgrown weeds that scratched your legs like hands reaching from the earth.

You took one step on the stairs when you stop yourself. Seeing one of the lance-like poles that littered the "yard" as if Vlad the Impaler himself decorated the lawn, you grabbed it. It was surprisingly loose, and although the rusty exterior uncomfortably scraped against your hand, it was enough to give you some semblance of security. If you were gonna enter the old well house you might as well  _try_  to defend yourself.

You took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Or, you tried to. Before you could lay a finger on the peeling wood the balloon pops, almost making you drop your makeshift lance. You sucked in a breath between teeth.

_Motherfucker._

You shoved the door open, which didn't take much effort unsurprisingly. You  _were_  surprised, however, that this place had somehow managed to withstand the natural withering of age. Though, somewhere in the back of your mind knew what, or rather,  _who_  was responsible for that. You shivered.

With your chaperon gone, you stood in the foyer for a minute. The house was practically overtaken by vines and other plants from the inside, like the earth itself was trying to drag the house down. It didn't take any longer for you to notice the smell that filled the air inside. It was like some awful combination of rotting wood and a rotting..something else that you didn't want to think about. You take a gulp. This  _definitely_  was not one of your best ideas.

 _You can just leave_ , you told yourself as you wandered absentmindedly throughout the house's ground floor. You twirled the fence pole between hands out of nervousness, you were lost. You sighed, taking a cautious seat on a step on the caving-in staircase.

"There had to be  _something_  else you wanted me to see." you rubbed your eyes. You were definitely gonna risk taking a long nap after this.

It hadn't even been a minute of respite when you heard something that made your hair stand on end. It was like some sort of scuttling? You couldn't quite place where it was coming from. On the walls? In the walls? Wherever it was, it made you grip your not-lance tighter. Something was with you. You got up from where you were sitting. You had a feeling you knew what was the source of the noise, and you had a feeling that you were supposed to follow it. You had already made a number of questionable decisions just this afternoon, what was one more on your plate?

As you made your way deeper into the house, passing through what used to be its kitchen, the scuttling noise became noticeably louder. Closer? You duck your head into the dimly-lit hall across from it, the scuttling seemed to echo from there. Or somewhere close to that hall, as you found yet another door left ajar. The noise was undeniably coming from the house's basement.

You bit your top lip. "Alright, NO. No. This was fun for all of two minutes but do you really expect me to-" before you could finish your thought the scuttling stopped. Everything was uneasily quiet, as if the house itself were holding its breath.

You stood at the edge of the basement, readying your fence spear and poking it into the door. Somehow, you knew that whatever chances of turning back had been used up. Whatever, whoever was down there was connected to the weird shit that you've been going through, you were sure of it. Almost comically, the door creaked open. You let out a breath of relief to find nothing standing on the other side.

You weren't even given a chance to make a step when you felt something wrap itself around one of your legs and pull.

Almost eagerly, whatever constricted your ankle yanked you down the stairs. A scream was caught in your throat. Everything went by so fast you had no time to react until you felt yourself land on the basement's dust-covered floor. You aren't given a chance to recover from the assault when you feel the thing pulling you across the room start again. This time dragging you into something that lay in the center of a room. A well? In a bout of clarity, you did the first thing you could think of. You stabbed your rusty spear into the tentacle-like appendage that wrapped itself around your ankle. As soon as you pulled it out, the tentacle's grip lessened, and you immediately tore yourself away. To your relief, the thing retreated back into the well.

Maybe you had felt too confident in yourself, or you were simply in a daze and hadn't thought it through, but you walked over to the well and peered over its edge. It was as calm as it could get in the house for a brief moment before something sprung out from the well like a jack in the box. Something humanoid.

A whimper escaped your lips as you felt a rough, gloved hand wrap itself around your neck.

The absence of light in the basement didn't help any, but you could clearly see the thing that stood over you. It was the clown, the same one that somehow managed to find itself in your kitchen a week ago. You're not sure if the tears forming at the edge of your eyes were from the decrease of oxygen or pure fear, but either way you can tell the thing holding you in submission was enjoying every bit of it.

Pennywise laughed that same, terrible high-pitched giggle that made your skin crawl.

Its voice was so shaky, changing in tone with practically every other word. "Did you really miss me this much? I don't remember inviting you here, hm? Don't you know showing up to someone's home uninvited is bad manners?"

Its free hand went to cup your cheek, trembling as soon as it came into contact with your face. You could feel its nails dig into your skin.

"You've been very impolite lately haven't you, Y/N?" The drool that dripped from its mouth and spattered onto the floor made your stomach lurch. With one hand It tugged you forward, closer to its face. You let out a sob. The hot breath that hit your exposed skin felt like fire. Was it sniffing you again? You shut your eyes.

"Speak for yourself." you rasped.

Your eyes flew open when you felt Its grip on your throat tighten. The hand on your cheek snaked across your face, almost covering it completely.

"After aaalll this time you're still as bright as you used to be." The clown's voice had gotten distinctly deeper, but no less volatile. Almost as if it were barely restraining itself.

"My little star." Pennywise let out another giggle. The hand on your face hastily retreated, stroking your tear-stained cheek once more before joining the other hand around your neck.

"We have a lot to catch up on, dontcha think?"

You choked out a sob. There had to be a way you could get out of this.  _There had to._

And by pure luck or the fact that It was too pretentious to think you'd do anything in the first place, you still grasped your fence-lance as if your life depended on it. In this case, it did. Gathering all the strength you could muster, you thrust it straight through the bottom of its jaw. The sick, squelching sound it made as the pole lodged itself into the clown's head would've made you vomit if it weren't for the fact that the same clown had you in a chokehold only a moment ago.

Pennywise let out a choked gasp, something akin to a death rattle but something in you knew that it would take more than a rusty pole to kill It. Its blood gently floated up toward the ceiling along with something else. Tears? Was it crying? You couldn't tell if the thing's pained wails were nothing more than just crocodile tears. At least, that's what you figured. Either way, you didn't want to stick around to find out.

Almost as soon as you felt its hold on your throat lessen, you tore yourself away from It, and you bolted up the stairs like an animal. You had barely reached the hallway into the kitchen when you heard that scuttling noise again. You were already bolting across the kitchen when you dared to look back. A hand shot up to cover your mouth to muffle a scream. Pennywise clambered through the hall on all fours like some type of insect, what were once gloves were now claws that dug into the house's walls.

The pole still jutted out from its jaw, but the clown's face was now warped. Rows of needle-like teeth stuck out from its mouth like shards of glass, drool dripping from its maw like a rabid animal. The clown roared, its feral growl shaking the house and raising goosebumps all over your body. You've never ran so fast in your life.

You were almost out the door when you caught another glimpse of your attacker. You weren't sure why, but something in its eyes made your stomach drop. You  _really_  hurt it. For a split second you doubted the thing could actually feel pain, but you were too busy unlocking your bike chain to dwell on it too much. With dusk rapidly approaching, you sped away.

As you rushed home, you wanted to ignore all the thoughts that flooded your mind.

You wanted to ignore how gently, carefully It stroked your cheek. You wanted to ignore how warm Its breath felt when it hit your skin. You wanted to ignore the drool that dripped down Its chin and stuck to your skin like honey. You wanted to ignore the disappointed, almost betrayed look It gave you as you shoved a pole through Its head.

You wanted to ignore that you almost felt sorry for It.

 

**August 1988**

Summer had flown by like a bird on the wind, and by the time you knew it there was only a little over a week left of freedom. With your parents busy with work, you had no other choice but to spend your free time with your older cousin that lived on the other side of Derry. You didn't mind hanging out with him on his own. He was pretty cool! It was only when you had to tag along with his little gang of 14 year olds that you began to feel a little nervous.

Looking back on it, you were pretty sure they only tolerated you because they found you endearing. Which isn't too terrible, if anything only a little patronizing.

You were riding on the backseat of your cousin's bike, lost in a daydream while staring up at the puffy cotton candy-like clouds that dotted the sky. You lose the daydream when you feel the bike screech to a halt.

"This the place?" you hear one of your cousin's friends say.

"Well no duh, genius." another one spoke up, bumping the other in the shoulder with her fist.

You hopped off the bike, scrunching your nose at the sight before you. It was that eerie house your parents told you about once or twice. You never really had a desire to go inside, but you couldn't ignore the feeling you got whenever you'd pass by it. Like something was pulling you toward it. It creeped you out, but you weren't about to go tell that to everyone.

"We aren't going in there, are we?" you squeaked, tugging at the edge of your jacket.

"Aw, are you scared?" the first kid mocked.

Crossing your arms, you huffed "Do I look scared to you?"

"Come on they're just a kid." your cousin said as he set his bike against the house's fence. "And yes, we are. But not for too long, right guys?"

"Sure."

"Yeah whatever."

The girl squeezed your shoulder. "Besides, you got the three of us! Nothing to worry about, right?"

You gave her a half-smile. They were only five years older than you but in your kid-brain, they felt as responsible as an adult. You would really rethink this when you reached 14 years.

When the four of you entered the house, you were hit with a subtle wave of disappointment. It was just as run-down on the inside as it was on the outside. With creeping vines that dripped from random cracks like a giant spider and decomposing wood that littered the dusty floor. It was gross.

"Don't go too far without us, okay Y/N?" your cousin said to you in a soft voice. You nodded.

There wasn't much to do in this place anyway. You didn't understand the appeal. That is, until you heard something. It wasn't so much as a sound, it was like a song? It sounded like carnival music, the familiar leitmotif ringing through the house in almost a dream-like manner. It sounds so nice, so nice in fact, that you don't notice yourself quietly making your way up the rickety stairs away from your cousin's group.

You barely took a step into the hallway on the second floor when you saw something sitting on the floor. Not even covered with a mote of dust, in the center of the hall was a tiny, wooden box. The red and white box was open, and the music you heard downstairs was definitely coming from it. You bent down to pick it up, marveling at the little clown that twirled in the center to the tune of the airy carnival music. How cute!

Watching the clown in the music box had gotten you into such a daze, you gasped when you heard a jingle from behind you. Turning around almost too quickly, you tripped on your feet, landing on the floor with a thud. You still gripped the music box in your hands.

Standing on the staircase, a gloved hand tapping rhythmically against the rail, was the clown from the woods. What was its name again?

"P-p-penny-"

"Puh-puh-pennywise?" the clown mocked with a chuckle. "Didn't expect to run into  _you_  again. What a surprise!"

It stepped closer to you, arm outstretched in an almost welcome manner. You gingerly took it, tucking the now closed music box under one arm. You let out a small yelp when Pennywise tugged you upright on your feet like a ragdoll. The smile that seemed to be stuck on its face never wavered once.

"Now what are you doing in a place like this all by yourself?"

"I-I'm not alone. I'm with my cousin and his friends."

You knit your brows together when you noticed a string of drool drip from the clown's mouth, holding onto the box tighter.

"And where are they?"

You didn't know why, but something told you not to tell It where they were. Not like It didn't already know anyway. You stayed quiet.

One of its eyes was fixed on the box in your arm.

"I see you found my little gift. Do you like the music, Y/N?"

"..Uh huh."

You had to admit, Pennywise scared you a little. There was something wrong about him, It, that made the hair on your neck stand on end. You hope It didn't know that. You hated it when people saw you scared.

The clown's bells jingled excitedly as It let out a shaky giggle.

"Consider it a token of our friendship, yes," it nodded to itself, one blue eye lazily drifting out of place.

"We aren't friends."

Its smile flipped to an exaggerated frown. "Oh, sure we are, Y/N." the clown lightly tapped the tip of your nose. You wanted to leave.

"U-um, I think I hear my cousin calling me."

Almost as if it were making fun of your statement, the clown brought a gloved hand against its ear, seeming to look out for a sound.

"Well I don't hear any-" You took the split second of distraction to run past the clown and down the stairs. Behind you, you could hear Pennywise's frenzied laughter fill the house as if it were coming from every crack in the wall. You practically tumbled down the stairs, unsure of whether It was following you down or not but you didn't want to stick around to find out.

The whole time, you held the music box as tight as you could, ignoring the small tears that ran from your face. Now downstairs, you almost run face-first into one of your cousin's friends. He shouted.

"Holy shit what spooked you?"

"Dude, language!"

"You okay, kid?"

Your cousin crouched down to your level, putting his hands on your shoulders. "Where'd you go, Y/N we were looking all over for you."

You swallowed a whimper "W-We need to go. T-The clown-"

"The  _what_?"

"Did they say clown?"

The teens looked at each other in silence. Your cousin was the first to speak. "There was nothing interesting here anyway. Let's just go home, 'kay?"

You nodded vigorously. If that clown guy lived here, you never wanted to come here again.

The four of you practically ran outside back to your bikes, scrambling down the road and not taking any chances to see that "clown" you mentioned. Before the house was able to leave your vision, you turned to look behind you, feeling a pair of eyes following you down the road. In the now open doorway stood Pennywise, once again waving goodbye with that same cheshire smile painted across its face.

You're not sure why you kept that music box, but you never opened it once in all your years of possessing it. Still, it would sit in the corner of every desk you would own, now collecting dust on the one currently in your apartment.


	5. The Talk part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You visit your neighbor for tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok I'm really sorry this update came so late, I had a lot of stuff going on irl and on top of that I decided to scrap the outline I had for this chapter in favor of a new one  
> (be warned, there's A Lot of exposition and lore stuff in this chapter, no spoilers but there's definitely gonna be more pennywise in ch6 though)  
> thanks so much to everyone that reads this and for being patient with my extremely random updates !!

It's dark by the time you get home.

With the new moon casting its shadow over Derry, the usually concealed stars shone brighter in the sky. Their cold, distant light gave you just a sliver of comfort as you locked your bike to the stand outside your apartment complex. You weren't shaking as much anymore, thank god, but walking up the stairs to your room you couldn't help but feel eyes on you. The last thing you wanted was someone to see you like this. The still-slimy saliva that clung to your body felt as heavy as chains. Just thinking about the source of said mucous made tears well up in the corners of your eyes.  _No_ , you chided yourself,  _Pennywise or whoever the fuck is back at that house with a pole through its head_.

The sound of your neighbor cracking their door open shouldn't have startled you so much, but after seeing her comforting smile you calmed down. Just by a little.

_You're fine. You're safe._ You repeated to yourself as you struggled to get your keys out of your pocket.

She stepped further out of her room, wrapping a shawl she probably knit herself tighter around her "You're back pretty late."

You gave a small nod and a smaller smile. April had lived here longer than anyone you knew (on your floor at least), and over the years she had become a sort of grandma to everyone in the complex. Somehow, she always knew what to say or do, and when to do nothing at all. You trusted her.

"Y-yeah I, uh, I know. It's just?" you nervously waved your hands, gesturing to nowhere in particular. "It's been a long day."

She shot a concerned look at you, and you almost dreaded she was going  _ask_  you about it. But she simply nodded. You let out a soft exhale, finally opening the door to your room.

"Why don't you come over tomorrow? It's been a while and I'm sure Cosmo misses you."

You paused in the doorway. Hanging out with a cat sounded like a good idea right about now. You gave a quick nod "Sounds good."

She smiled, but it was the kind of smile someone gives when they know something's amiss. She didn't seem worried, but it was something like that. "You have a good night, now." there was a hint of something solemn in her statement, but you weren't entirely sure if you were just projecting or too tired to process things clearly. Instead, you just walked into your room.

"You too."

You had only taken one step inside when you could feel your legs give out from under you, allowing your body to slide down the door. You were so drained. So many thoughts were buzzing through your head you almost felt dizzy just sitting there with your head on your knees.

The trails of dried tears that clung to your cheeks were suddenly revived. Only a sniffle or the occasional hiccup managed to escape you as you tried, and failed, to gather yourself.

You felt wrong, sick even. You knew that..thing. Something in the back of your mind,  _your heart_ , told you that this clown was something familiar to you. You could see it in Its face as you fled from the Neibolt house. You felt a headache coming on. You're not sure how long you sat on the floor, but finally, you willed yourself to get up. You weren't entirely sure if the creature that kept inviting itself into your life was real, but even if it was, you weren't "friends". You never would be, not if you could help it.

It was already late, and you could sense the creeping feeling of sleep start to wash over you. You decided to take a shower.

 

Your eyelids are so heavy, and as the warm water washes over your body you accept your eyelids fluttering closed. Normally, the irrational fear of seeing someone behind those thin curtains would've kept them wide open but for now you allowed yourself some respite. For a moment, you just stand there in silence, sluggishly scrubbing the last of the creature's saliva off your body. It was a wonder how your neighbor hadn't noticed it. Did she? You hoped not.

Maybe it's because time was only growing later, or the steam from the water had clouded your senses, but for a second you swore you felt the water become..viscous. Hot, sticky, and slightly metallic. You didn't want to open your eyes. Maybe it's because you felt a hint of something trace your skin like a spider. Restrained, the thing ghosted along your arms, your legs. You could feel your heart in your throat, and the voice in the back of your head screamed at you to keep your eyes closed. Your eyes shot open.

There was nothing.

You shut off the water. Swallowing the frog in your throat, you could feel your fear slowly grow into annoyance. Whatever this was, it was getting old  _really_  fast.

 

That night you don't dream. No void, no turtles, and thankfully no clowns. Just an empty space. Although, upon waking up you feel like you hadn't slept at all. You're not surprised. It takes you almost an hour to drag yourself out of bed. You go through your usual morning routine, but the normally sweet coffee you prepare for yourself tastes too bitter, and your breakfast sits uncomfortably in your stomach like a boulder. You somehow feel more tired than before you went to sleep.

Time flies like nothing happened that day, and before you know it you're knocking on April's door. From inside, you hear a muffled "Just a second!" shortly followed by the sound of the door unlocking. When it opens you're greeted by her warm smile and gently ushered in.

"Any preference on tea, hon? Water should be done boiling in a minute."

"Oh, um, no not really."

"Hope you don't mind honey ginger." She had already made her way into the kitchen, leaving you with the squat, orange tabby that rubbed itself against your legs in the living room. April quickly popped her head from where she stood in the kitchen "Go ahead and take a seat, Y/N, I'll be right there."

You plopped yourself on a plush armchair by one of the windows, Cosmo quickly (or as quickly as he could) ran over to where you sat, promptly plopping himself on one of the seat's arms. When you first moved into the apartments, April had been the first one to greet you and make you as comfortable as possible. You two had made a habit of coming over for afternoon tea. Although, for the past year you fell out of that habit. Being back in her room, however, felt as normal as visiting your own grandmother would.

You absentmindedly stroked the cat's back as it sat comfortably on the armrest, looking around the modestly decorated room. As your eyes wandered, they settled on a shelf across the room. Placed in a neat little row in the center of the shelf were tiny painted ceramic turtles. The sight didn't make you uncomfortable, but you felt nervous for some reason. Like it was a feeling outside of your control. You tore your eyes away from them, deciding it best to stare out the window.

Shortly after, April came back with two cups of tea, curls of steam rising from the top. She sat in a cushioned wicker chair next to you, placing the cups on the side table that divided the two of you. You grabbed the one nearest to you, lightly blowing away the steam and taking a sip. She clasped her hands together.

"I know you're not gonna say it, so I guess I'll get right to the point and ask if you  _really_  think you're that good of a good liar."

You almost choked on your tea. "I-I'm sorry,  _what_?"

She raised her eyebrows in a prodding manner. Maybe she did notice something last night. You sighed, setting the cup back down. Your mouth hung open as you were about to utter some half-baked explanation, you didn't even know what you would've -  _could've_  - said, when you saw her hand come up in protest.

"No need to explain honey, I've lived in Derry my whole life. I know."

You stared silent, wide eyed at your neighbor.

April took a swig of her tea as if she had just asked you how the weather was. You were trying to come up with something to say, but it was like the universe pressed the pause button on your entire body.

"Well, are you gonna say anything or should I escort you out?"

"N-No, I, um. I'm fine it's just," you're not sure why but your voice lowered to a whisper, as if you felt someone else was listening in on your conversation "We're talking about the same thing, right?"

She chuckled. "Keep in mind this has been happening for  _much_  longer than I've been around, but I was 5 years old when all this weirdness started happening to  _me_."

You knew you were in for a long story, you took a drink from the teacup and listened.

"I'm sure you're familiar with the Black Spot attack. Everyone is, it seems. Happened years ago, hell I was much too young to remember it but I knew..I knew it was only the beginning of all those bad things. And don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. The "accidents", all those missing people -  _children._

You immediately think back to the earliest memory you have, back to George Denbrough.  _That had been his name_ , you thought. You remember the feeling of dread that 9 year old you couldn't place when you saw him run past your home with the rain whipping around him like gentle hands trying to tell him  _No, don't go that way._ And you remember the dreadful wave that would wash over you whenever you'd see his missing poster, and the one after that, and the one that would eventually come with every disappearance. Suddenly your tea tasted too bitter.

"It's like a cycle, every couple years it rears its ugly head, causes more hurt and we move on. And that's the catch, everyone always forgets. Of course there's always a handful that remember the horrific acts that scar this place but in the end they all forget. It's like a storm that ravages Derry and leaves almost as soon as it came.

And you know what I'm talking about, don't you? I can see it. You weren't supposed to forget but you have."

You set the teacup back on the stand. "What do you..? What do you mean I wasn't supposed to?"

April looked at you incredulously, as if you had just told her the biggest, most obvious lie you could think of.

"The minute you first entered this building I knew. If you've lived as long as I have you learn to see it in other people. The shine. That's what my family called it, that's what everyone else with it called it. It varies from person to person but ultimately it lets us  _see_."

_It makes you see_ , you're not sure where you got that thought, or if it was even your own. But you tear your eyes away from her, you glance pulled toward the turtles on the shelf across from you both, suddenly feeling like they were watching you, waiting for your reaction. Your throat was suddenly dry, and you felt very cold.

You feel a chill run down the length of your spine, goosebumps already forming on your arms. You know exactly what she's talking about.

"And you've seen It too, right? The presence that's stuck to Derry like they were one and the same? Haven't seen It in twenty-some years but I know it's still here. As long as Derry still stands so does that  _thing_."

"Th-The clown? Is that what all this is about, s-some John Wayne Gacy copycat?"

She huffed an exasperated laugh. "Y/N, believe me, we all wish it was."

Gently, she took your hands in hers. Your hands felt like ice.

Her voice was quiet, like a mother consoling a child that had gotten a scrape in a playground "You can tell me what you've seen."

You didn't notice it at first, but you had been trembling the entire time. You took a deep, shaky breath.

"I? Have this feeling, this is gonna sound  _so_  weird but I have this  _feeling_. Like something has always been with me but now it's  _awake_  and?" You were searching for the right words, but it felt as if a wall had risen in your mind that kept you from forming a coherent thought. "It's horrible and familiar and I don't know what to do."

She pat your hands, her own retreating to their spot in her lap. Her eyes were warm, but they avoided your question. Maybe she didn't always know what to say after all.

"I hope by now you know you aren't the only one like this. Most people go about their lives blissfully unaware but deep down they know. Could never bring themselves to admit it though, not in this day and age."

Something in her eyes changed, they looked? Sad almost. Sad for you?

"You can leave, you know. More often than not, they all eventually do."

_You can't leave_ , you think to yourself. You're not sure why but the thought of just  _leaving_  Derry was so foreign to you, it never crossed your mind the time you had spent on this earth. It didn't even seem like a possibility.

"Sorry if this is too personal but, if that's the case then why haven't you left?"

She chuckled, it was melancholic and tired.

"Someone's gotta warn them, if I have the chance that is."

She looked over at the antique clock that hung on her wall, its ticking fading into the white noise of everyday Derry life. She lifted herself up from the chair, taking both teacups with her. They had gone cold.

You were left alone in the living room with the knowledge of everything and nothing at once. You wanted to know more, you wanted so desperately to talk with her about Derry, about this shine you keep hearing about, about It.

"You can show yourself out if you want. Don't wanna fill your head with too much worry, you look like you've got enough on your plate as it is." She poked her head from the kitchen. "Just, whatever it is you've gotten yourself entangled with, be wary."

Before you leave her apartment, you glance back. There's so much more you need to understand, you can feel her trying to tell you. There's something about the restrained distress in her eyes that unnerves you, like she knows something you don't (and she probably does).

"Have a good day, April." you stagger from her room back to yours.

 

You go about whatever's left of your day thinking about your talk with April. In the past month, hell in the past week everything had been too much to process. You hadn't left your apartment all day, holed up within its walls mulling over the bomb of information your neighbor dropped on you. A part of your had known, it had always known. What you couldn't begin to wrap your mind around was the fact that you had just simply forgotten about it all like it was nothing.

You felt beyond tired, you were exhausted. The sun had already begun to set, and although the feeling of a blanket pinning you against your bed like a warm hug brought some relief, you couldn't find yourself going to sleep. You would drift in and out of consciousness, being startled awake by your thoughts or the feeling of being watched. That feeling never went away, not completely. In fact, since your confrontation in the Neibolt house, it seemed as if it had only gotten worse.

Your bed didn't feel comfortable anymore. Your blanket was too warm. The light from the streetlamps poured into your room as the last remaining rays of the sun fell below the horizon. You were tired, but not in a way that you could hope to relieve just by going to sleep.

An hour passes, and you finally feel your eyes growing heavy out of pure fatigue. Boredom maybe? They droop lazily over your eyes, and for a second you almost feel at rest (as much as you can feel at the moment). Until, of course, you felt a dip on the edge of your bed. Of course.

It was light, like a cat almost, until that dip became heavier and heavier. Your fists clenched your blanket, and you sat up.

Partially illuminated by the streetlamp's artificial glow was Pennywise, seated on the edge of your bed like a gargoyle. It was grinning that horrible grin, jagged and uneven teeth digging into its swollen lip, drool dripping down onto the front of its collar and subsequently onto your bed. Its eyes were a hellish yellow, burning through you like the headlights of a car. It giggled, grave and rumbling deep in its throat like it couldn't help itself.

It gave you a slow, antagonizing wave.

"Have a good rest, Y/N?"


	6. The Talk part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a late-night conversation with an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consistent updates? never heard of her (ok but for real tho im sorry for taking so long on these chapters i keep revising the existing outline when i probably shouldnt lmao)  
> also this chapter ended up way longer (and with a bit more lore than the previous one) than I expected it to be so?? oops??  
> anyway, thanks sm to anyone still reading this !! this has been such a fun exercise in terms of writing tbh !!

"No thanks to  _you_." you couldn't believe you managed to force that sentence out without stuttering.

Pennywise's brow furrowed, its fabricated smile turning into a grimace. Its hypnotic, golden eyes still pulsed in the dark, focusing directly on you.

In this moment, caged in a room with what was essentially a wild animal, you didn't feel afraid. Well, of course you  _were_  but the gradually increasing feeling of enmity towards this creature was overpowering. At this point, you had no reason to fear it.  _Yes_  you knew that whatever terrible force that had its vice grip on Derry was now crouching on the corner of your bed.  _Yes_  you knew that the probability that It was behind most, if not all, the cold cases in Derry was very likely.

In this moment, all that didn't matter to you (at least, it wouldn't for the time being). What did matter was that this clown had the gall to show up in your room right after you shoved a pole through its face.  _It should've been over why isn't it over you think It would've taken a hint but_  - you berated yourself while pressing your back against your headboard.

The room felt cold, but that wasn't why you were shivering.

Like some insect, Pennywise crawled closer to you, your bed groaning with each shift in its position. Soon enough, the clown's towering form cast a darker shadow - darker than the already pitch-black room - over you. At this proximity, its ragged, labored wheezes were more audible than ever. You swallowed a gag when its effluvious breath washed over your face. Pennywise's grin returned, and it laughed.

Raising a trembling arm, it brought it to the side of your face. It brushed your cheek with the back of its hand and you could feel just how shaky it was, like its hand would fall off if it touched you for a moment longer. You jerked your head away.

Pennywise snarled, and it's then that you notice it. There was something off about the way its jaw hung open limply when it wasn't grinning or laughing or doing whatever else It always did. The clown's signature needle-point teeth were barely hidden behind its full, red lips. And looking up at it from your position, you could just see the hint of the injury you inflicted on it a little over a day ago. It was still recovering.

You couldn't believe there was a moment, albeit brief, where you pitied the thing.

Whether it be due to the adrenaline that coursed through you with this creature trapping you in a corner or just hubris - you felt brave - and you spoke again, this time with a notably sardonic tone. "That still hurt?"

The clown released an animalistic shout that seemingly shook the room. You flinched, sucking in a breath when you felt a gloved hand grip your chin, tugging your face closer to It. Its fingers dug into both of your cheeks.

"No. More. Games." the clown's voice was deep, raspy, but most of all serious - a far cry from it's usually capricious demeanor. Pennywise's face was twisted in a pout, it almost looked childlike, that is, if you took away literally everything about its appearance.

Your hands sprung forward to grip the hand around your face "D-Didn't know I was playing one." You tried your best to shoot it a glare but the growing fear in the back of your mind prevented you from doing so. Pennywise unmistakably sensed this and inhaled the scent of your fear, eyes threatening to roam out of place as it took as deep a breath as it was capable of taking. It broke out into a fit of unsettling cackles.

"Bravery doesn't suit you."

You hated to admit it, but It was right. You were never really a brave person, but hearing it come from this clown made you feel so uncharacteristically fearless you couldn't help but spit back a retort.

"Look, I-I don't know what you want from me," The feeling of nails threatening to puncture your skin forced you to catch your breath, you were pretty sure the fingers pinching your cheeks weren't this sharp a few seconds ago. "But don't you have some kids to snatch?"

The hand on your face tightened, and the clown went back to its frustrated pouting. It quickly jerked its face to the space between your neck and your shoulder, sniffing whatever scent your emotions were currently giving off. Pennywise's expression didn't change.

"You weren't always this difficult."

"Yeah, well, people change after 27 years, give or take-"

Just before you had a chance to finish your thought, Pennywise shoved your head to the side, leaving a thin trail of red scratches along your left cheek. A yelp escaped your lips as your shoulder hit the headboard, hand flying up to your cheek. You felt a row of welts forming on the side of your face, the trace of your warm blood slowly beading to the surface causing you to wince. You glared at the clown with the most indignant expression you could gather at the moment.

The moment, however, was ruined when the clown in question pounded its fists against the bed, the bells that adorned its body jingling in an ironically childish way. You rolled your eyes.

"How do you expect me to take you seriously when you act like a fucking child."

Pennywise lunged at you, or at least it pretended to, screaming at the top of its lungs with those serrated teeth practically spilling out of its maw. Its shoulders were hunched, claws ripping out from its dirtied gloves and once again dangerously close to your face. It was trying to intimidate you, and it would've worked had you not been able to see through whatever facade it put on when it chose to be among humans. You leaned against your headboard, a thin trail of blood trickling down your cheek.

"Can't say I'm surprised. You are what you eat, right?"

At this point, you knew that if it wanted to hurt you, it would've done so by now. You could see it in its face, walleyed, red-yellow eyes burning through you. It wanted to kill you so bad. It wanted you to hurt,  _be_  hurt. But it couldn't, not now. You didn't quite know this, but you could feel it. Like how the air became charged with dormant electricity when a thunderstorm was approaching.

Pennywise let out a low, feral rumble. "Quiet."

"You  _never_  told me what you were doing here!"

Pennywise lurched forward, this time drawing out a yelp of surprise from you as its dark, clawed hands firmly cupped both sides of your face. The scratches on your cheek stung.

"Yooou've wasted your  _life_ ," You could feel yourself shaking, eyes wide with unease. It took a ragged breath, letting a string of viscous drool slip from its lips. You hated the way its hot breath hit your face, but you hated the way you could feel your face become increasingly flushed even more.

"You're  _whoooole_  life, and you refused to seeee."

"S-See what? Is this about the sh-"

"Shiiiine shineshineshineshine," its hands were shaking against your skin, the clown's self-restraint was palpable. Pennywise gave the bells hidden around his collar a shake with a low chuckle.

" _You_  would believe her words than mine."

"I was never really one for riddles I guess."

Pennywise dug his claws deeper into your skin and you let out a cry, hands grasping at the clown's in a desperate act to peel them off. It was futile, but your hands remained clasped around its wrists.

"Come on dude, you were about as vague as those fucking nightmares I have all the time."

Almost as if you flipped a switch, Pennywise's concentration was focused on you. You could swear you felt its grip on you lessen, even if it was for a moment.

"I bet you're the one causing them, huh?" you dug your nails into the clown's wrists. You doubt it could even feel it, but it was the thought that counts. "T-The void, those  _monsters_  that keep trying to get me, that..that red  _Thing-_ "

Like it was on cue, Pennywise burst into frenzied laughter, mixing with the sounds of jingling bells that echoing throughout the room. Its whole body shook as though it had just heard the joke of the century. Your eyes nervously darted around the room and you gulped.

Pennywise regained a sliver of control to rapidly push out as close to a coherent sentence as it could come up with.

"So you've seen himmm." the clown's oddly high-pitched, sing-song voice didn't do much to quell your distress.

Once again, it's as though whatever force that was keeping Pennywise under semi-control broke like a dam, because almost immediately after uttering those words the clown burst into yet another a string of unhinged giggles like a child with an inside joke.

"He KNOWS!" the clown is almost beside itself with morbid glee. It crawls closer to you, but you can only press yourself harder against the headboard.

"Pooorr little Y/N," the bells on its collar jingled with an ironic innocence "Caught caught caught in the eye of the king and without a ka-tet in sigh-t."

It booped your nose with that last syllable. Your fists clenched around the clown's wrists so tight your knuckles paled. As per usual, you had no idea what the fuck it was talking about.

Pennywise towered over you, trembling claws roaming from your face to your head, smudging the blood that had accumulated on your cheek across your face all while pulling you closer to itself like a parent would do to a child. Your body stiffened, but the clown's strength just tugged you closer like a doll. You could see it was muttering something, a string of words so foreign to your ears that it didn't even register as speech at first. Whatever it was saying, it definitely wasn't english. Something told you that it wasn't a language at all, at least, not on earth.

You were so close to It now, closer than you were back at the basement of the Neibolt house. Your body tensed when you felt its messy, ruffled collar tickle your nose. It smelled like shit, if said shit comprised of detritus, burnt sugar, and something so acrid it could only be the remains of its last meal. Your stomach lurched, face twisting into a grimace.

You knew trying would get you nowhere, but you attempted to push yourself away from its chest, far enough at least that its blood-stained collar wasn't being shoved against your face. The clown only laughed as its grip on you strengthened. Your hands held fistfuls of its once-silky-now-flithy costume. One thing that struck you as odd (on top of everything that was already odd about the clown) was how stiff it was. The clown's chest was as rigid as stone -  _like the shell of an insect_ , a thought appeared in your mind. You're not sure where that thought came from, exactly - you had a hunch - but nevertheless you agreed with the sentiment.

 _Like an insect_..you're unsure why it rang through your head, but that wasn't your main concern at the moment. What  _was_  your main concern was that Pennywise was now running its pointed fingers through your hair.

It had you in a twisted headlock, one hand bolted to your back with its claws poking your skin - daring you to pull away. The other hand was stroking your hair, well, stroking was a nice way to put it. It felt more like having nails drag down your scalp, purposefully tangling and untangling themselves in your hair. Tears welled in the corner of your eyes with every tug.

"T-Twinkle twinkle little staaar h-how I wonder what you aaare," the words came spilling out of its mouth, erupting into random bouts of giggles as it rocked you back and forth on your bed. Oddly enough, you were thankful for this, the movement masking your trembling body.

"Uuuup above the world so hiieeeheehehheehe!" Pennywise's hands wandered from your hair to grip both sides of your face again, pulling your gaze towards It, only It. You could see strings of drool drip from his lips and dribble down his chin, subsequently landing on you if the collar couldn't quite catch a drop. Its eyes weren't facing you, however, they had both rolled out of place.

"Twinkle twinkletwinkle t-twinkle twinkle," it was rambling again. You suppressed a whine, eyes darting to any sliver of your vision that wasn't obscured by it's face. You suspected you were gonna be in this position for a good amount of time, so slowly, your muscles relaxed. Not completely though, your shoulders were still as tense as ever, but you allowed your tired body to lean into the clown's hold. Although it didn't seem like it, it's arms were as sturdy as iron. You let out an exhausted sigh, raspy in the same way one's voice is in the too-early hours of the morning.

You clench your hands into fists, nails digging into the skin of your palms. You break whatever train of thought Pennywise had gotten itself sucked into for the first time in what seemed like forever.

"Why haven't you killed me yet."

Pennywise stopped its rocking motion. The bed stopped creaking - you hadn't even realized that it was creaking to begin with - and your room was filled with such an uncomfortable silence it felt as though you were choking.

The clown pulled away from you. Its expression was, for once, unreadable. It looked like some mix of frustration and restraint, which in all honesty, was basically one of it's seemingly three emotions. You didn't want to look at its unblinking eyes, you didn't want to look at It in general.

"Killing you," it ran one of its clawed hands down your cheek, ignoring the acute pain it caused while running its nails over your cuts once more. It stopped just short of your neck, carefully grasping your chin with its talons digging into your skin "Would be like the death of a star."

Pennywise smiled, the needles in its mouth having returned to its regular bucktoothed form.

"So brilliant, so pointless."

You felt the electricity in the air again, making the hair on your arms stand on end. You weren't sure if it was lying, but the fact that your death wasn't worth the time gave you just a bit of relief. Only a bit.

Pennywise released you from its grasp and you sunk back against your headboard. "We neeed each other you knowwoohhoho,"

"Not sure I, um, know what you're..getting at."

Pennywise stood up from your bed, staring down at you intently while rhythmically tapping a now-gloved finger against the rim of its eye.

"You scratch my back, I scratch yoourrss."

Had it not been the middle of the night, you felt that you would've understood sooner. But you didn't, so for now you just watched this clown - this creature - back away from your bed like a performer would after a curtain call.

Pennywise stood next to your desk, its interest suddenly drawn to the dusty, red and white box that sat in the top left corner. It lifted the lid of the box open gently, atypically so, and as it did the soft sound of carnival music filled your room. A shiver ran down your spine.

You've heard this before.

You hadn't opened that box since the day you got it, but hearing it now brought back a flood of memories. The feeling was so overwhelming that you found yourself having trouble breathing, almost as if you were being submerged underwater. You shut your eyes, a headache crashing through your skull like a wave.

Pennywise chuckled "So you kept my gift? You really do care!"

As it laughed that lilting laugh, you cracked your eyes open, the world around you dark and blurry. The clown disappeared almost as soon as your vision cleared. Like smoke in the wind, it's awful cackle still echoing in your mind.

You wiped away a trail of blood that leaked from your nose on the back of your hand. You sighed, getting up from your bed. You figured you'd clean the scratches on the side of your face while you were at it.

 

You didn't get much sleep that night, you hadn't even wanted to close your eyes for more than a minute but eventually you drifted into unconsciousness. You hadn't dreamt that night, you haven't had any dreams for almost a month now. It was a welcome respite from your years of horrible nightmares but at the same time it felt as though you hadn't slept at all.

And then it hit you.

Your night terrors, the clown - everything it had said to you that just passed over your head as if it were nothing suddenly hit you like a train. An awful feeling of dread twisted your gut, and a hand flew up to cover your mouth.

These dreams were never dreams, at least, not your own.

 

**December 1988**

It had been a chill day, literally and figuratively. Winters were always cold in Maine, but this particular winter had been especially cold in Derry. Just how this year's rainy season had been particularly bad, Derry was flooded for over a week. On top of the slew of other bad things, it had been one hell of a year.

You never went back to that house on Neibolt street with your cousin, hell once his parents found out (and subsequently snitched on him with your parents) you weren't allowed to tag along with his little adventures. Not like you cared anyway, wherever that clown was was a place you didn't want to be in.

That clown, it haunted you like the ghosts in those scary movies your parents wouldn't let you see. Since the incident in the house, you felt like it followed you everywhere. You wouldn't see it, but a feeling that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end told you that you weren't alone. Sometimes you could swear you saw It. While riding in the back of your parents' car you would pass an alley in downtown Derry, catching a glimpse of that familiar grungy costume and signature red hair. Or you would be playing in the park with kids you knew but never talked to and see a person standing across the street, holding a single red balloon in one hand and waving at you with the other. It didn't so much as frighten you more than it confused you.

On top of that, Pennywise was much too clingy for you, you felt like it was trying too hard. What with the constant offering of little tokens that usually consisted of balloons and other circus commodities.

Sometimes, for some obscure reason, you thought it wanted that music box back.

You're still unsure why you kept it. You remember it saying that it was a gift for you, but your parents (and your school) had drilled the whole "don't take stuff from strangers" mantra into your head. And although the clown would insist that you were friends, you weren't as quick to believe that. You were, after all, still angry at it after what it did to your turtle. Well, you weren't  _sure_  that it was Pennywise that had killed it. It was more of a feeling that you knew was true, like something in your brain that was not your brain told you. You could've probably made the connection at some point. You were 9, not an idiot.

Either way, the music box was yours now. You found it, and even though Pennywise told you it was a gift you liked to think that you had found it on your own. It made it easier to keep in your home, in a way. For some reason you hadn't wanted to throw it away. Some weird part of you was comforted by its fun carnival music, and its presence in general was just strangely soothing.

You grabbed the music box from your nightstand, turning it over to inspect it. Every now and then you would open it, the light tune putting you into an almost trance-like state. You never questioned the tonal dissonance between Pennywise and your music box, but you were too young to care.

You had opened it again that night, letting the sound lull you to sleep, until you heard a noise from under your bed.

It was a scuttling sound, like something was scratching against the hardwood floor of your room. You set the music box on the bed, carnival music filling your room as you leaned down your bed. You couldn't see anything, so you slid from your bed to the floor, shivering a little when your hands touched the cold wood. It was still dark underneath your bed. Squinting, you looked closer.

Two blue eyes looked back.

You yelped, sliding slightly backward. A chuckle crept from under your bed. Cautiously, you bent back down, practically hugging the floor. The eyes were still there, still staring at you.

"Hiya, Y/N. Aren't you gonna say hellooo?"

You gulped.

"H-How'd you get down there?"

"Oh, can't a friend just stop by to say helloooh?"

You lie flat against the cold wood, resting your head on your arms crossed before you.

"Not under beds they don't."

The clown remained silent, the music from your box filling the silence. Didn't this guy have someone else to pester? If you thought you didn't have many friends, this clown must've had fewer.  _Maybe that's why it's always bugging you_ , you thought.  _Maybe it's just lonely._

Didn't stop It from being so weird, though.

Pennywise only gave you the creeps, there was something definitely off about it that you couldn't quite put your finger on but it had never done anything to you personally. You decided that was reason enough to let it stick around.

"Aren't you cold under there?"

You saw a bucktoothed grin form in the dark void beneath your bed, teeth glinting off what little light reached under there.

" _I'm_  never cold."

"That's good, guess you'll be okay under there."

You propped yourself up, sitting cross-legged on the floor. You stood up, or rather, you were going to until you saw an arm reach out from under your bed. The gloved hand would've reached your ankle had you not pushed yourself backward. You gasped.

"W-Wait, wait-" Another arm shot out from the bed. You rolled your eyes, moving further backward until you were leaning your back on your room's door. Slowly, you saw the clown drag itself from under your bed. You had no idea how something of its size was able to fit under there, you were almost impressed. You scrunched your nose when you saw the scratches it left on the floor from scrambling out from its hiding place. Your parents would kill you if either of them saw that.

Pennywise stood at its full height shaking off the dust that stuck to its body with an exaggerated wiggle, the sound of its bells jingling eliciting a giggle from you. The clown dropped to the floor like a puppet on a string, making an audible  _whump_  against the floorboards.

"What are you doing here anyway?"

The clown only smiled, staring intently at you with unblinking yellow eyes. Wait - you could've sworn they were blue just a moment ago. Maybe it had been a trick of the light. You waved it off.

"I was just having a bite to ea-t," There was something about the way a thin string of drool that fell onto its ruff that made you feel uneasy. "And IIII was in the neighborhood."

Your hands balled up into fists, you weren't sure if you wanted to know the answer to this question but you knew it had to be done regardless if you wanted to know or not.

"I know you did it." Pennywise leaned forward, pretending to care about what you were saying. "My turtle, I know you hurt it."

It shifted uncomfortably from where it sat. The clown was no longer looking at you, and it seemed as though it were pouting. "Don't. Trust. Turtles." Its voice sounded serious now, like when an adult gave a child a stern warning after said child disobeyed some rule. You swallowed a whimper.

"T-That's not what friends do, hurting their pets."

The clown laughed.

"You won't hurt me, right? That's not what friends would do."

The laughter stopped, and Pennywise simply smiled.

"Nnoo," the clown licked its lips, staring at nothing in particular. "Like eating a fruit that's not ripe..yes, a waste."

It brought a hand to the top of your head, it stayed there for a brief moment - like it didn't quite know what to do with it - until it plopped on your head just a bit too harshly, ruffling your hair. It kinda hurt, but you wouldn't hold it against them.

Pennywise shot up, once again like a puppet on a string only the string tugged it toward the ceiling. Standing over you, the clown seemed as tall as a tree. It bowed down, smile growing impossibly wide, and then it vanished before your eyes like a puff of smoke. You sat on the floor of your room with wide eyes and disheveled hair, not caring how the cold wood beneath you made your legs feel numb.


	7. The Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one week it's a goddamn christmas miracle  
> ((also this chapter is ridiculously long and another heavy plot one so,,e njoy))

That morning hadn't felt real.

You felt yourself go through your regular morning routine, eventually finding yourself in the kitchen making a quick breakfast - you were in a bit of a rush, you had work today. You hoped no one would take much notice of your constant zoning in and out of concentration - and the scratches on the side of your face even more so - but you felt that that would be inevitable. It was like the real you was floating outside your shell of a body, tethered to you like a balloon on a string. And if that wasn't enough to deal with, you were incredibly jumpy.

Just a light tap on your shoulder would cause you to gasp or raise your heart rate a couple beats. You felt annoyed with yourself. When you were face-to-face with the clown, you felt fearless, like the two of you were on equal ground. And in a way you were. But out here in the open, you felt nervous. What would you do if you saw It in public? Was there anything you  _could_  do? You couldn't just go up to the cashier at the local corner store and say "Hey, sir? Yeah there's a clown demon standing right next to you so, watch out!" If you ever thought of saying something like that (to anyone other than April, that is) you might as well have checked yourself into Juniper Hill.

No matter how much you tried to think about normal person things, your thoughts had somehow found ways to bring themselves back to all the revelations you've had over the past day or so.

For some unfathomable reason, you found it easier to believe that there was an evil force leeching off of Derry than whatever that stupid Shine is.  _You think you would've noticed it years ago_ , you keep telling yourself.  _There's a reason for that_ , another thought joins the other. And the cycle repeats.

Thankfully, no one had questioned anything. Sure there were the occasional "are-you-okay's" but no one had even commented on the three scabbed lines running along your cheek. It was almost as if they were visible only to you. You couldn't bare to look at yourself in a mirror, or any reflective surface really. Every time you caught a glimpse of the scratches - _the marks_ , the thought formed in the back of your mind (you hated just thinking about it, or rather, the implications of it) - it made your cheeks burn hot with embarrassment, hatred? Something between those two.

Before you knew it, your shift ended and you headed home. The spring sun hung low in the sky, painting it in a blue-to-orange ombré. The ride back home passed by you like a morning mist. You had decided to bus to and from work today, you felt it was safer somehow. Lost in whatever you were listening to, staring out the window, the reflection in the window ahead of you caught your eye.

It was the cover of the local newspaper. Squinting, you read the headline.

**ANOTHER CHILD MISSING RESURRECTS OLD FEARS**

You felt your stomach drop, the bus suddenly felt colder than the air outside. You couldn't read the rest of the article, but you didn't need to to know what it said. Having lived in Derry your whole life, you were raised on the principle that strangers weren't to be trusted and the curfew was the law of god. You vaguely remembered all the children that went missing when you were a child. You thought of the Denbrough kid, George, and shivered. There were others, but you couldn't recall their names for the life of you. Your parents never talked about the disappearances around you, but after your talk with April, you were thankful.

You knew who -  _what_  - was behind the kidnappings.  _Murders_ , you thought. Something like Pennywise couldn't possibly be taking kids just to keep in some zoo.

The bus suddenly coming to a halt snapped you out of your daze. It was your stop. You and a few other people shuffled off onto the sidewalk, each of you taking different directions. One of which was a mother and her two kids, the two of them holding her hands as they made their way down the sidewalk. The boy looked behind him. At you. You stopped, briefly, eyes locking with the child's. You couldn't make out his expression, but you could tell he was just as confused as you were. Looking at him made you feel uncomfortable. The same way you felt when you saw the Denbrough boy run past your house that fateful summer day.

Tearing your eyes away, you kept walking.

With the sun getting lower, you hurried back to your room. On the way back, you stopped in front of your neighbor's room. You thought for a moment. There was so much you wanted to talk to her about, too much to put into words. You shook your head, unlocking the door to your apartment instead.

The afternoon sun bathed the room in an orange glow, you almost felt better now that you were in the safety of your own home. That is, until you remembered that nowhere in Derry was safe.

 _No wonder they always leave_ , a thought crept from the back of your mind.  _Hell,_ I  _could just leave._ But where would you go? Did you really expect to start your life from scratch in a city you didn't know all because some clown thought you were fun enough to hang around? You let out a sharp exhale, making your way to your room and dropping down on the bed. Once again, you felt totally drained. You guess it was just something you'd have to get used to now.

Turning over to one side, a tiny red and white box that sat innocently on your desk caught your eye. The last rays of sunlight poured over it as if to say "Look at me! Do you remember me, Y/N? Because I remember you!"

You grumbled. Getting up, you reached over to your desk and grabbed it. You're not sure if it was just another one of Its illusions, but you could almost see the spaces where its fingers touched the box, leaving notable dustless spaces. You wiped away the remaining dregs of dust off the lid that had accumulated over the years, sending dust motes twirling into the air. The box really was pretty. It had been carved with care, that much you could tell. You ran your fingers on the swirls that marked its sides. The painting was chipped, but not so much so that it looked unkempt. The edges of the box were like candy canes, red and white swirls running around its entirety. Its sides were a plain white, with a bright red lid and a rusty clasp that couldn't quite close completely.

Goosebumps formed along your arms. You breathed deeply, a slight shake to your inhale, and you opened the box.

That same calliope tune filled the room, starting slowly at first and then easing into itself. If you were to listen to it at first it would sound like stock carnival music. That's what you had thought as you were listening to the box right now, leaning against your headboard with the box in your lap. But as the notes ran on, you found yourself humming along to a familiar lullaby. And then it hits you. It's not just music, it's a nursery rhyme. As naturally as one would recite a prayer, you found yourself singing the lyrics in your head.

_oranges and lemons_

_say the bells of St. Clement's_

_you owe me five farthings_

_say the bells of St. Martin's_

It had been so long since you heard that particular nursery rhyme you were surprised you still knew it by heart. Before you could finish the rhyme you stopped yourself, scrunching your nose. The ending of that song always creeped you out. As the box droned on, you could hear the last parts of the rhyme in your head as clearly as you would if you had been singing it out loud.

_here comes a candle to light you to bed_

_and here comes a chopper to chop off your head_

Except, you  _were_  hearing it. And it wasn't just your voice, it was a chorus of voices. Children's voices. And they were coming from your bathroom.

You stared wide-eyed at its door, slightly ajar with the room's light leaking into your room. You didn't remember leaving the light on this morning. The music box looped on itself, but the singing hadn't stopped, it was getting louder. You stood from your bed, legs threatening to give out but you stood up regardless.  _I don't care if I have to start over I swear if it's that fucking clown again I'm gonna leave this place tonight_ , you thought. You knew you wouldn't, the thought was more of a motivator to see what the hell was happening to you now. But it worked, as you had gotten closer to your bathroom door.

The music and the voices blared in your ears now, and your hand hovered over the doorknob. Whatever was in there, you're sure it couldn't be weirder than Pennywise.

And you were right, sort of. The bathroom was empty, save for the cacophony of children's voices coming from what seemed to be your sink. You stepped carefully inside, trembling hands gripping the edge of the basin. As you peered into the sink, staring down the murky drain, the chorus of voices stopped.

"H-Hello?" no answer. "Pennywise? Is that y-"

The voices roared to life, the kids' screams and laughter blurred together in one awful howl, one conglomerate SHUSH that left your ears ringing. Your hands left the sink's edge and flew to cover your ears.

 _NotHimNotHimNotHim,_ they said.  _the clown will hear he is always listening he is always watching_

The kids' voices died down with a babble and a whisper, whatever they were saying you couldn't hear it.

"Alright, alright. Sorry." You crossed your arms on your sink, leaning forward. "So..if you're not the clown then? Who are you?"

The muttering started again, this time distinct enough that you could make out individual voices.

 _betty ripsom...eddie corcoran...veronica grogan...georgie denbrough..._ the list of names went on for so long you lost track of how many there were. All of them kids. You recognized a few, two of them were recent disappearances from the past month. Of course you already knew Georgie.

By the time the voices died down again you felt the need to sit down. You were never the biggest fan of children as a whole but hearing these - as there wasn't any other way to word it - ghosts made your heart ache. 

"So he, It, got you." the voices didn't respond. They didn't need to.

"How'd you get in my bathroom, anyway?"

_took usss float wefloat down here we change_

Again with the ambiguity. "No, I mean," you sighed, shoulders slumping. "How'd you find me?"

_seeeeseeseesee you can see_

Your arms flew up, hands splayed upward. Of course. "Right. I knew it, it's because of me, right? My shine?" You gave in to your tired legs and sat on the floor, laying your back against the drawer below the sink. "Been kind of a reoccurring theme lately." you whispered mostly to yourself.

"I still don't understand," at this point you were talking to yourself, regardless of whether or not there was a hoard of ghost children listening in through the pipes. You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your head on them. You felt the beginning pressure of a headache pounding beneath your skull. Perfect.

_late it is too late it's too late for us_

"I..I know."

_but not for them them they are alive help you can help them_

You raised your head in confusion, pulling yourself up so that your head was practically in your sink. "Wh-help? Who, help who?"

The voices had died down, whispers and babbles and laughter all becoming muffled within the pipes.

"Hello? H-Hey, are you - are you still here?" you whispered harshly into the drain, trying not to raise your voice. For once, the chorus of children came together. It was still hard to hear with all of them speaking at once but the message was clear.

_he will hear you_

The bathroom was quiet, and although you had been the only one physically there you felt alone. You sat on the seat of your toilet, head in your hands.

"Great. First clown demons now ghost children. Fucking wonderful."

You felt a warm liquid pool in palms, and you saw that a trickle of blood had run from your nose and down your lips. You grabbed a handful of paper towels, almost turning on the sink until you hesitated. Stuffing a piece of paper towel in your nose you left the bathroom, deciding it best to use the one in your kitchen. Walking out, you hadn't noticed the music box that still sat on your bed, lid closed and nursery rhyme silenced.

"Might as well call the fucking ghostbusters while I'm at it."

 

You sat at your small kitchen table, picking at leftovers from the past weekend. Your appetite has, admittedly, not been the best. Ever since your night terrors stopped you had been feeling increasingly less hungry. You'd maybe have small portions throughout the day but you can't remember the last time you had an actual meal.  _It's just a side effect from my antidepressants_ , you thought. Speaking of, you had to remind yourself to get some refills some time.

You were half way through a lukewarm bowl of mac & cheese when a strange thought entered your mind. You remembered the kid you saw while getting off the bus earlier. You remember feeling eyes on you, a need to turn around. You remember feeling a strange knot in the pit of your stomach, tugging at you as if to turn you around. Something told you that the kid noticed you first, maybe he felt a similar tug. Seeing him in your memory, however brief your encounter was, something about the boy reminded you of someone- something. You remembered the time when you were a child, during the summer of '58 when it had rained for an entire week, you remembered -

_they are alive you can help them_

"No, nooo nonono no," the fork you were holding clattered onto the table, you waved your hands in front of you, eventually clenching them into trembling fists and setting them back down on the table.

"I can't," you weren't sure if those ghost kids could hear you right now, but you didn't care who listened. Your neighbors, Pennywise, hell even that turtle could be listening and you didn't care.

"I'm sorry," your head stung like hell. "Even if I wanted to I? I don't know how?"

Would it be cowardice that kept you from warning the children of Derry about some evil sewer clown, or some weird sense of self-preservation? Did it even matter? The question of who would listen came up once again.  _No one_ , you thought.  _No one would, Y/N, because they always forget._

You had never felt so hopeless. Powerless? That too, ironically.

That night you fell asleep on your sofa.

You drowned yourself in true crime documentaries, they had only been white noise to the disarray your mind had been the whole day. You couldn't help but replay everything on loop. It was a bad habit that you were sure you developed in your early teens. Exhausted, mentally and physically, you passed out eventually. Your body was curled up in a fetal position against the arm of the sofa. It wasn't the most comfortable place in the world to fall asleep on, but it wasn't bad either.

Deep in sleep, you entered the void.

It wasn't the frightening void Pennywise would dream about almost every night for the past 27 years. It was a different void. It felt like forever since you visited this not-space. All of your dreams, or lack therof, had been the equivalent of putting yourself into a sensory deprivation tank. It wasn't awful though, at least nothing could get you there. At least that's what it seemed.

But you weren't in that blank, lonely space vacant of dreams. You were back in the void. Dark, infinite, and definitely not lonely. You could never see anything, or your vision would not let you see. But you could feel them, like they were behind a two-way mirror. They couldn't grab at your not-body here. You were never quite sure who or what "they" were, but in your night terrors they always felt familiar. Like you had known them. But now you knew better. It was not  _you_  that had known them. It was something else.

Floating through your not-space, you felt that something was missing.  _Not something, someone._  You felt an overwhelming sadness overtake you. This was different than a regular depression, or any other earthly form of sadness that you had felt in your physical body. Grief, that was as close to an emotion as you could word it. Grief, only you felt it all throughout your not-body. You wanted to cry, you wanted to mourn the thing you never knew and couldn't see and for some unexplainable reason (that would go on being unexplained in your life) you wanted to sing the thing's name from the peak of a tower you had never known or seen and would never see.

_That old fool can't help you._

_The turtle couldn't help you._

_Because he's dead_ , you thought.  _Maybe not on other worlds, but in mine he's dead._

And for the second time that day you felt lonely and incredibly helpless.

But then you felt a tug, like something was pulling your entire form in one direction. You were given no chance to process the flood of emotion that had briefly overtaken you. You had no choice but to turn toward the feeling in your maybe empty void. You were met with something bright, not as luminous as the Turtle but they were bright nonetheless. At first you thought it was a pulsing blob of light speeding towards nowhere but as they drew closer to you, you could make out several individual dots in the dark. You saw seven stars.

They were too bright to be stars, but looking at them directly you could have only called them stars. As they passed you by, you felt just a tiny sliver of hope sneak back into your voidself. The cluster of stars passed by like a whale would a diver, and on their pilgrimage to nowhere you saw one star flicker out like a candle.

The feeling of despair came back to you briefly. It was not the all-encompassing emotion that paralyzed you, this was a human emotion. And as you watched the remaining stars disappear, you had a feeling that they would be alright. Maybe not all of them, but as a whole, they would be alright. Whatever mission they were on, whatever  _thing_  waited for them at the end of their journey, it felt right.

Almost as soon as the stars disappeared from your view, leaving your void and into another, it was like a switch was turned on.

Your void changes, you feel a shift in its energy and you know that something is here with you. The voice of the ghost children echo through the void.

_he is always watching he is always listening_

As with most of your dreams, you're confronted by the fleeting image of something red, a feeling of floating, and you wake up.

 

It's still dark, sometime in the early morning you guess. You felt cold, a layer of sweat covering your arms and forehead. You blinked the remaining sleep away, rubbing your eyes and coming away with the remains of tears. You rarely ever cried in your sleep, only when the night terrors had been especially bad.

_the turtle couldn't help you_

You hissed, soft and low as you could feel fresh tears forming at the edge of your eyes. You didn't even know why you were crying, you hadn't known this turtle for long. It wasn't even of any help to you, or anyone else for that matter. Still, something you felt in your dream told you that the loss of the Turtle was something bigger than yourself, bigger than your planet - maybe your universe. You felt very small, only this time it wasn't the humbling sort of way you had felt when you first met the Turtle. It was a nihilistic sort of small.

You leaned back against the arm of your sofa for a while, staring at the ceiling until the first rays of sunlight filtered through your windows.

Today felt different.  _Derry_  felt different. Like there was a palpable change in the air that seeped into your being. You knew your boss wasn't going to be too pleased about this, but you decided you were going to call in sick today. There was something you needed to do.

 

**April 1989**

Pennywise hadn't bothered you too much since the year started. 

You didn't mind this, though by now you were getting used to Its unnerving presence. You figured it was busy doing weird clown things, whatever that meant. Either way, you were too busy to really care what it did - or didn't do - as you were currently sitting in the back seat of your parents' car, silently complaining about the scratchy Easter outfit your mother hand-picked for you.

One of the kids from your elementary school invited your class for an egg hunt in Bassey Park. To be honest, you weren't that stoked on going. Your parents insisted,  _Don't you want to spend time with your friends?_  they said. You didn't even have that many, maybe one or two that you sat with during your lunch period and only talked to each other because you were in the same class. Other than that, begrudgingly, you guess Pennywise had become your closest friend.

Finally reaching the park, you saw a small group of children huddled among each other in subdued excitement, their parents in their own assembly. You recognized most of their faces, though you noticed that not everyone had come, the small few that you actively interacted with absent. You shot your parents a glare. Your mother responded with a look that said  _don't be rude_ , so you stayed quiet.

"It'll still be fun, kiddo." your father blankly reassured you, nudging you in the direction of the cluster of children.

You took one last look at your parents, already immersing themselves in the world of adults (admittedly a bit reluctant to do so, you didn't get your penchant for introversion from nowhere). Sighing, you clutched your basket and walked to the other kids, humbly keeping your distance. In the center of the group you could see a certain kid laughing along with whatever the others were saying. You didn't like them too much, and you knew that the feeling was mutual. You hoped that some force out there kept them from noticing you, especially now when you were alone.

 _Not alone_ , you thought. You weren't sure exactly where that thought came from, but it was comforting in a weird way, so you didn't dispute it.

Thankfully, the parents of the kid in question returned from hiding the eggs, and with a brief countdown the race was on.

The sun had been particularly warm that day, a handful of puffy clouds floating by on the cool spring breeze. The kids that bothered to show up, which was about a dozen or so, rushed past you in a frenzy. Some had even found a couple eggs already. You weren't in a rush, in fact you just wanted to go back home and binge on the candy your parents bought the previous day. To put it shortly, you were bored.

 _It'd be fun if the clown was here_ , a small, strange part of you thought. No, you didn't miss It. The clown was weird, and you didn't need your life to be weird. You pushed the thought further back in your mind and you continued on your egg hunt.

It had only been about 5 minutes, but it felt like hours. In that brief amount of time you had only been able to acquire a single, baby blue egg with small white decals around it. The other kids were ravenous, almost all the eggs had already been snatched up.

You had practically given up looking for any more, standing to the side near the playground's swing set. You were sitting on one of the swings, letting the wind gently move you back and forth, when you felt someone tap your shoulder. You gasped, whipping your head to look behind you.

It was a girl, she looked to be about your age only there was something..not right about her. She looked old, not in terms of age but more in the way she  _felt_. You didn't want to look her in the eyes, but something about her presence gave you the feeling that she had been around for much longer than you - or your parents for that matter. It unnerved you. And not to mention she was wearing the dirtiest dress you've ever seen (you couldn't help noticing, even though your parents taught you never to judge a person  _that_  way). She did seem nice though.

You didn't notice her holding out an egg to you, with a soft half-smile on her equally unwashed face.

"Don't you have a basket?"

The girl giggled. "It's for you, silly!"

You raised a brow in confusion, the girl reaching into your basket and carefully placing it next to the lonely blue egg. The one she gave you seemed brighter than yours, or any other one you had seen the other kids find. It reminded you of a candy cane, red and white stripes curling around it. It reminded you of the music box you found just a couple months ago. You gulped.

"You don't...know a clown, do you?"

The girl's pleasant face changed, eyebrows knitting together and taking one of your hands into her own. She shushed you. "Not here."

With one tug, she pulled you off the swing. You yelped, almost tripping over yourself had it not been for her still holding your hand. "W-Where are we going?"

She turned to face you again, polite smile back on her face "Just enjoy your Easter, okay?"

It didn't sound much like a demand, you didn't fully understand at the time, but the tone of her voice made it seem like more of a plead. You smiled back at her.

The egg hunt was almost over, and you had only found two eggs (well, technically one) - plus three more with the help of the mystery girl. The entire time guiding you around the park to areas the other children had for some reason not checked. You were actually having an alright time for a minute. Sure the girl was a little weird, and the things she would say sometimes sounded like something your grandma would but who were you to judge.

With the egg hunt wrapped up, there really was no reason for you to stay long afterward. The other kids were too busy cracking their found eggs on each other's heads to pay attention to you anyway. Your parents seemed ready to leave as well, the two of them quickly approaching you while waving a few other parents goodbye. You turned to wave at the mystery girl, who had somehow walked back to the swings. As you walked out of the park you waved at her, she only gave you a smile. You hopped into the backseat of their car, uncracked eggs rolling against each other in your basket.

"Have any fun, sweetie?" your mother turned to look at you briefly.

You shrugged. "It was alright."

"Who were you talking to back there? You're getting a little old for imaginary friends, dontcha think?"

You looked at her incredulously. "You didn't see her?"

"See who?"

"The girl! She helped me find the rest of the eggs! You didn't see her?"

You turned around, ready to point her out Your parents shared a quick glance at each other, too quick for you to really think too much about. The rest of the car ride was uncomfortably silent.

Finally home, you drowned yourself in the promised candy your parents had got for you. You stared at your basket, eyes drawn to the eggs your strange "friend" had helped you find. You reached in, meaning to pull one out only to yank your hand back with a hiss. Confused, you looked in the basket, brow furrowing when you saw what was inside.

The eggs were all charred and smoky, light wafts of smoke coming off of the eggs in waves. All were hot to the touch, all except for one.

The lonely blue egg you had managed to pick out yourself was still cool to the touch and the same baby blue when you first picked it up.


	8. The Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go to the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy this chapter kicked me in the ass  
> on top of being busy with holiday stuff i kinda had a mini writers block but i think im all good now  
> also this is by far the longest chapter so im apologizing in advance

Almost frantically, you knocked on April's door a second time.

Chewing on the bottom of your lip, you nervously crossed your arms, holding your elbows in each palm. The more you rocked yourself on the heels of your feet the more anxious you became. It felt as if there was a timer quietly, mockingly ticking above you.

After what felt like ages, you heard the sound of a chain sliding out from its place in the door and the soft click of the lock below it. Almost immediately after you heard a muffled "Come in" you practically burst through her doorway and into the living room. April stifled a gasp.

"Well, good morning to you too."

"Sorry, I'm in kind of a rush."

She laughed, "Yeah I can tell." April made her way to the kitchen, leaving you once again alone in the living room with nothing but the troupe of turtles staring blankly into nothing. Looking at them made your skin crawl.

April stood in her kitchen, the sound and smell of sizzling eggs carrying over into the living room. Cosmo lay sprawled on the floor next to her with a far-away dreamy expression. She turned to look back at you, a half-puzzled half-worried expression plastered on her face.

"Didn't expect to see you this early in the morning," she said while shutting off the stove, slipping the pair of eggs onto a vintage-looking plate. "What's got you so frazzled?"

"April, I saw something. Last night, while I was asleep. I know this sounds completely nuts but it was important, I  _knew_  that but I don't," your thoughts were as scrambled as the lattice pattern in April's curtains, words were just not working with you. "I don't know who they were but I  _do_. Does that? Make any sense?"

April looked just as shocked as you sounded. She closed her eyes for a second.

"I think you might wanna slow down there, hon."

"You know there's more like me, right? Here? In Derry?" you continued, your nerves getting the best of you for a minute. She took your jittery hands in hers, guiding you to sit on the cushioned wicker chair behind you.

"Alright, for starters I think you might wanna tell me who it is you saw." She looked at you directly, suddenly an air of seriousness surrounding the room. "Was it..the cl-"

"NO, nooo no. It wasn't-" for a split second you almost called It a him. "It wasn't the clown, they were different. I-I saw them - I  _feel_  them. Whoever they are, they're here and It knows. It  _knows_ , April."

"Y/N..who did you see?" Her eyes searched yours, a tinge of worry flashing on her current expression for the briefest of moments.

"I saw seven stars. B-But they weren't stars, they were  _people_. I don't know how I knew that -  _god_  I probably sound so weird right now."

April settled into her seat, hands clasping together, lips tightening into a straight line. She looked at the ground for too long for it to be a comfortable silence, and then looked back up at you. "Y/N, believe me when I tell you that this is nothing you can handle. This isn't your fight."

"But I-"

She lifted a hand, quietly shushing you and taking a moment to dig into the still-steaming plate of eggs. Still tense, you sat back against the chair crossing your arms. Thoughts of the seven stars from your dream-vision, the ghost kids, of It, all entered your mind at once like a flood. Whatever those kids wanted from you, you knew you couldn't fulfill it. Not completely. But whatever, whoever, you saw in that dream had something to do with it. Something to do with everything you had experienced in the past month, possibly even farther than that.

And if you couldn't be involved in whatever those starpeople were in, then you could at least tell someone about it. If there was anyone to tell, that is.

"I know you feel it too," you were starting to feel jittery again. Was that a headache coming on? "I can't even begin to explain it but, whoever these people are, they need my help."

April shut her eyes "Y/N, listen," she pointed a finger directly at you "And I need you to listen, alright? I guess I must've been too vague last time but there's something you need to understand." she took your hands in hers, grasping them slightly tighter than she usually did.

"We don't interfere with It, and It doesn't interfere with us...understand?"

You stare at her - you can't do anything else than stare, an incredulous look twisting your face into a frown and leaving you with your jaw hanging slightly limp.

"You want me to ignore it? IT?" you take your hands away from hers. "All this time, I could've been doing something.  _You_  could've been doing someth-"

April stood up, slowly yet suddenly, and she did not have the usual patient and kind visage that she always wore.

"Y/N," the pause made a twinge of nervousness crawl into your heart, but you weren't any less upset. "You, of all people, have no idea what you think you're dealing with. This thing? It, as far as I can tell, is older and stronger than anything this hellhole of a town can ever hope to understand." she sighed, lips tightened into a crooked line, and settled back into her seat.

You stared at your lap, hands fumbling with each other in a nervous dance of soon-to-be clammy fingers. Now thoughts of the Turtle, the void, and the Things in said void that writhed unseen in your not-dreams raced through your mind. Of course you knew that Pennywise, that IT was more ancient than anything on earth

_more ancient than your universe_

but that didn't dissuade you from what the ghost kids had told you, or from what few dreams that  _were_  your own were trying to tell you. If anything, your determination to play whatever part you were given only strengthened. And April could see it painted on your face.

Literally.

A thin trail of blood ran down your lip and the faint taste of blood filled your senses. You quickly wiped it away with your hand, trying and failing to blink away the headache that dully pounded behind your skull.

She looked out the window, she couldn't bare to look at you, you knew that. The feeling was almost tangible in the air, amplified by April's own shine (although faded, you could still feel it yourself, like a faint static electricity that coursed through you all the way down to your fingertips). You couldn't really look at her either.

"The library."

You let out a questioning hum, she still wasn't looking at you but she seemed serious. Her brow furrowed.

"You wanna warn  _someone_  in this place that actually has an idea of what the hell's going on here? Go to the library."

April picks at her food again, not looking away from the window.

You get up, tentatively at first, but after a quick minute you realize that she is completely serious, and you make your way out of her living room. Your hand hovers over the doorknob, a question hanging on your tongue. Before you could even turn around April speaks up.

"You'll know when you get there. Trust me."

You stay silent, unsure whether the "thank you" you heard was just in your head or you had unknowingly spoke it out loud, and you left.

 

You sped through Derry streets faster than you thought you could, switching between bike lanes and alleys at a pace that most people would've seen as reckless. You didn't have time to waste, you could feel that same invisible timer hang above you like a morbid reminder of what would unfold. At least, that's what your intuition told you.

At last, you arrived at Derry's only library. You never really came here unless you had to, but you could recall a handful of fond memories you had of being dropped off here for the afternoon while your parents worked. You remembered sitting in the back of a group of other children that had also likely been dropped off gathered around one of the librarian assistants while they read some kid book out loud. Younger you enjoyed it, for the most part. But really you knew the only reason you were here was because your parents couldn't find a babysitter.

You chained your bike to one of the metallic racks outside the library, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your pants as you walked inside. You honestly had no idea what to expect. You didn't know who or what you were looking for, and you weren't entirely sure if your  _abilities_  would be of any help either. Still, you continued.

The inside of the library was just as you remembered it, save for some changes here and there. The low buzz of subdued chatter filled the space, and for once you found that that made it easier to blend in.  _Lighten up would you? You're not in some mission impossible movie_ , you thought to yourself. Only everything you had experienced up until then seemed very impossible. You shivered.

You were walking past the front desk when you felt something like a magnetic tug in the air that pulled your gaze to the side. And then you felt it, like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm, a  _click_  that you swore was audible. You saw a man, he couldn't have been much older than you, standing on the other side of the front desk busy with whatever a librarian could possibly be busy with. It only takes a second before he looks up from his work and his gaze found yours.

If there was ever a moment in your life where you felt that you were meant to be somewhere, this was it.

You could swear your eyes locked for a brief moment, when he pulled his away - reluctantly - to go back to his work. Walking up to the desk, the realization that you have no idea what to say hits you like a train at full speed. Before today, you had never talked to this person. Maybe you did? In the passing greeting sort of way whenever you did end up going to the library and he happened to be there but other than that this man was a complete stranger.

And yet he wasn't.

Call it intuition,  _something_  told you that they were one of the stars from your dream. That much you could tell. Suddenly your anxiety flared at an intensity that you felt like you were going to freeze up at any moment. But you pushed through it, you had to.

After what felt like an age, you reached the desk, nervous hands retreating from your pockets and clasping around each other as you set them on the desk's surface. From this distance, the man looked much older than he seemed. The sides of his hair were already graying, and the ghosts of premature wrinkles had already been carved into his face. Despite that, he seemed kind. And much wiser than you, even though you definitely could tell that he was maybe two or three years your superior. He looked up from the desktop in front of him and back to you.

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

Your mouth suddenly felt as dry as tarmac on a summer afternoon. Subconsciously, you licked your lips.

"There's uh, something I think I need to talk to you about,"

 _Stupid, stupid! You could've done better than that!_  you berated yourself inside your head, arms stiffening ever so slightly.

A look of surprise, or curiosity, crept up his face, brows raised as he cocked his head to the side ever so slightly. "Is there something wrong? If it's got something to do with books I'm sure I can find some way to help you." he chuckled to himself lightly.

"N-No, I mean?" you sighed. "I don't know any other way to put this, but I need to talk to  _you_. Specifically." You cringed at your own words, but you knew the intangible countdown that had been following you since this morning had only so much time left. You weren't sure if that meant you had any time for sugar coating.

The man's look of surprise devolved into one of confusion, but it wasn't confusion exactly. His brows knit together, eyes leaving you and pondering some random space. He seemed lost in thought for a moment before settling on you again. You could feel your hands clamming up, so you stuffed them back into your pockets.

"About what?"

"Huh?"

"What is it you need to tell me?"

You wanted to kick yourself so bad. "Oh! Right, um, this is definitely going to sound a little... _out there_  but please trust me."

Something in the man's demeanor changed. He seemed nervous, but there was also a grave look to him, almost as if he had been dreading what you had just said.

"I-I mean if you don't that's fine I can just-" thankfully, he interrupted your soon-to-be ramble before it could quite begin.

"Calm down," he said in a hushed whisper. He leaned forward from his place behind the desk somewhat, looking around the room to make sure no one was listening. Of course, no one was, but you could never be too sure. "How out there are we talking?"

You gulped, you didn't mean to, but now that the attention was all on you you felt more timid than you should've been. This time, you considered your words more carefully. Chewing on your bottom lip as your eyes darted to the side.

"Like..real life horror movie kind of out there?" well, you can't say you didn't try.

To your surprise, the man seemed to be in a sort of reserved panic. His eyes widened, barely noticeable unless you were at the same distance you had been at the current moment. He whispered again, this time in a much more urgent tone.

"Listen, come back here at around 8. The library should be closing and we'll be able to talk then."

You opened your mouth to protest, but you found that nothing came out. You let out a soft exhale instead. "Yeah that..that's fine."

He gave you a small, awkward wave and in return you gave him a small, awkward smile. Before you were able to fully walk away from the desk, you stopped yourself.

"I, uh, don't think I caught your name."

"Mike, Mike Hanlon." his smile, like his eyes, were friendly and humble.

You waved at him quickly, it was hardly a wave, but you continued to walk away and out of the library.

 

You had no desire to go back to the apartment. The tension you felt between you and April was too much, and you're not sure if you were ready to face that again just yet. Instead, you spent the day out among Derry for the first time in what felt like a long time (making sure to avoid the general area of your workplace, of course).

It never really occurred to you how much you would appreciate going to a local cafe for an afternoon drink, but the feeling of normalcy grounded you in a way that you hadn't felt since...well, everything started happening.

If you thought about it - hell, even if you didn't - you could sometimes swear you felt someone, some _thing_ , watching you. But there were times when it felt like more than something watching. Sometimes you swore you could feel It seeing what you were seeing. If you focused enough, you could almost feel the twitch of something poking around behind your eyes. The feeling hadn't filled you with fear or pain, at least not too much, but it definitely brought some strange wave of nostalgia. Like something akin to this had happened before. There was no questioning where the source of that feeling came from.

As much as you didn't want to think about It, you couldn't help yourself. How could you not? Pennywise probably knew where you were and what you were doing at any point in time. Just the thought of it made you feel incredibly uneasy, and also something else. It wasn't a positive something else - at least you didn't think so - it was more like a fact than a feeling if you really thought about it. You couldn't deny that you felt some sort of sentimentality toward It. But that was presumably just a remnant of whatever relationship that had been there when It was last active. It had to be.

You threw the remains of the drink you got into a nearby trashcan, hopping onto your bike with no particular location in mind. It could've just been the wind, or some person passing by, but for a second you thought you heard a giggle. A very specific, lilting giggle that brushed past your ear like a fly. You whipped your head around, checking your surroundings for any sign of It. As per usual, there were none. Brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, you hastily pedaled away.

 

The rest of the day went by agonizingly slow.

You had spent your time visiting your local haunts that you hadn't been able to visit in the past couple weeks. They weren't anything special. Derry's local antique store, one of two bookshops, a couple random clothing stores whose names you didn't really pay attention to.

In all honesty, you hadn't really felt like you were there. You caught yourself dissociating more often than usual, feeling as though yourself - your  _real_  self - was drifting

_floating_

just outside your body, tethered only by a thin string. It was a shitty feeling, and it wasn't one that you could control entirely. It was the sort of thing that you had to ride out naturally or pull yourself out of if it dragged on for too long.

Thankfully, the time to return to the library was approaching, and you hurried back. There was practically no one out, which allowed you to cut through more bike lanes, alleys, and the occasional sidewalk faster than you would've dared to do during the daytime. Soon enough, you were back at the library, its still-lit windows lighting the encroaching darkness outside like a beacon. You went inside.

As promised, the library was empty, save for one or two stragglers. It didn't matter. You saw the man again - Mike - only this time he was re-shelving books from a metal cart back into their respective places. He saw you almost immediately, and you felt the static again. You think you knew exactly what April meant now.

"Hey! Glad you could make it, just give me a second to finish this up, would you? You can go ahead and wait in there." he pointed across the room to another smaller room with the door slightly ajar. You nodded.

Sheepishly, you flipped the switch to the lights. It looked like a lounge room. It wasn't too small, there was a table with three chairs and a mini fridge next to a counter. A small couch sat against a wall. You settled yourself on one of the table's chairs, messing around on your phone for the next ten or so minutes before Mike entered the room.

"Sorry for the wait, busy day."

"S'alright." the swift resurgence of unease took hold of your body when you remembered that you had to explain, in abstract, whatever weirdness that had been going on to a complete stranger. All because a dream-vision told you to. The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded. You forced yourself to push these feelings away.

Mike took a seat across from you.

"So what was it you wanted to tell me?"

You inhaled, fists clenching and unclenching beneath the table. "Just prepare yourself okay, this is gonna sound really weird."

"Well, this  _is_  a weird town so," he laughed, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "I think I can manage."

You nodded, "Okay, uh, I'm not sure exactly how I can sugar coat this but," you could feel your hands nervously tremble. "I think you might be in danger?"

Whatever calm he feigned fell away as soon as those words left you, and you could almost sense a drop in pressure in the room. You felt cold, and something told you he felt it too. The static filled the room to the point where you could swear you saw the hair on your arms stand as straight as needles. Mike looked frightened, but that fright was barely contained under a layer of professionalism. He briefly looked around the room and behind his shoulder.

"What.." he licked his lips nervously. "What kind of danger?"

You let out a noncommittal hiss and shrugged. "Yeah, see, that's where it gets weird. Weird _er_ , I mean." You steeled yourself. Either this man would believe you wholeheartedly or would let out a sigh of relief and have a laugh about the air of seriousness you had set up. A part of you wanted it to be the latter.

Mike repeated the question, slower this time but with more emphasis. He seemed a bit on edge. To be honest, you were too. You felt like this was something you shouldn't be talking about. But you felt that he would understand,  _hoped_ , rather. You clasped both hands together under the table to tame your shakiness.

"There's something in Derry, okay? I don't know  _what_  it is, o-or who you are but that thing? It knows you're here. You and others like you."

He looked at you with a sincerity that unsettled you. Mike was afraid, his calm front dropping abruptly. He knew exactly what you were talking about.

"Others. You said others - what others."

You jumped a bit, the sudden change in interest taking you by surprise. "Seven. There were seven of you I saw seven. People? And you were one of them - I think. I'm pretty sure." You always had trouble keeping your rushed speech to a minimum. Even as a child your parents would chide you for your rambling.

Mike leaned back in his chair. He looked drained, haggard even. You could tell something in his mind was working to make sense of whatever words spilled out of your mouth just now. By some miracle he seemed to understand what you were saying. He seemed to regain some composure, but a look of worry still hung from his face.

"You said something else..something in Derry."

You were dreading that question. You really didn't know how to answer it yourself. Calling It a clown would be a lie, a shapeshifter even worse somehow.

"I-I don't know exactly. Whatever It is, it knows you're here." Now  _you_  were beginning to feel nervous. "And I'm not sure It likes that."

His head was in his hands, rubbing circles on his temples. He drew in a shaky breath.

"Is it alright if I ask you some questions."

You nodded.

"How do you even know this?"

You sighed, unwillingly sinking into your seat. "Okay, um,  _that's_  going to take much longer to explain and I'm pretty sure we don't have the time for it."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes for a second and opening them again, crossing his arms.

"Alright. Alright,  _fine_." He gave himself a moment to regain his composure.

"Look, I didn't ask to be dragged into this H.P. Lovecraft kinda crap! I probably know as much as you do, okay?"

He raised a hand, slowly setting it down in a "please settle down" sort of motion. A silence filled the room, not quite uncomfortable but charged with an energy that pricked your skin with unrest.

"It's alright...we didn't either."

You wanted to ask what he had meant, but there was something in you that already knew. You felt like you had experienced something like it. Maybe a fraction of whatever he and those "others" had been through. Still, it was something.

Mike looked at you intently, a somber aura surrounding the two of you.

"This thing..have you seen It? Something that didn't seem  _right_? Funny, almost. Clownish?"

You gulped, a shiver freezing your spine and raising goosebumps across your arms. Slowly, you nodded again. You were about to say It's name out loud, but the voices of the ghost kids rose again in the back of your mind, so you didn't.

"Yeah..Yeah I've seen it."

You had more than just  _seen_  it. You felt It. Pennywise became something of an afterthought now. It's presence followed you everywhere. You felt It in your thoughts, and by some unspeakable force you knew that whatever connection it forged with you had been there for far longer than you realized. A part of you hated it.

"Listen, Mike, I wish I could tell you more but this is? All I know?"

"Don't be sorry," he pushed himself off from the chair, you did too. "Thank you for telling me this, really."

The two of you stayed in the lounge for a minute in shared stunned silence. You made a move to leave until Mike spoke up again.

"I know it's getting late, but please just hear me out,"

You turned, quietly waiting with just a bit of anxiety in your heart.

"It was brave of you for coming forward with this - and please don't feel offended, it isn't my intention - but I don't think you should be involved with..all this,"  _you aren't supposed to be_ , he thought. He didn't say it, but you could sense that it was what he wanted to say.

"I'm just the messenger..I know."

Mike walked you out, neither of you speaking to each other. He saw you ride off on your bike, waving each other a brief goodbye. That had gone better than you expected, and you weren't expecting much. You just hoped that he would take what you said to heart.

As you faded from view, Mike hung back on the entrance to the library. There had been something about you, about your general atmosphere specifically, that reminded him of something he had not felt in a good while. He couldn't quite find the words to explain it, but the feeling was very much like the one he got when he was around his old friends.  _Good_  friends. It was a feeling all of them would get whenever they were together. And although you weren't one of them, (you never would be, 8 isn't as lucky a number as 7 is) he knew you were "one of them" in a different sense.

 

The ride back home was, admittedly, creepy.

As soon as you were out of the library's sight, a blanket of dread took hold of you. Something was off, terribly off, so much so that it felt like your throat was closing up. It was late. Too late for someone like you to be out riding a bike, by yourself no less. The feeling of being followed intensified, and you knew that it wasn't some human (or anything earthly for that matter) following you. Your knuckles clenched around the bike's handlebars. It could never leave you alone for a day, could it.

Almost as soon as you came close to acknowledging Its presence, the streetlights next to the bike path you were currently on began to flicker. As you passed under them, one by one they would flash on and off, going back to normal once you passed them completely. You rolled your eyes.  _I know what you can do_ , you thought.  _If you really want to scare me you gotta try harder than that_.

As if on cue, the light above you blew out, eliciting a cry of surprise from you as the glass from the bulb fell to the ground around you like serrated glitter. Thankfully, none of it had actually hit you, but you didn't wait to see what would happen next. Carefully maneuvering your bike out from the debris, you pedaled faster. You weren't that far from the apartments, but the thundering beat of your heart made it feel as though you were miles away.

Daring to look behind you, the other streetlights had also blown out.  _Shit._

You raced back to the apartments so fast you could've beaten the devil itself. The entire time you could hear the lights behind you short-circuiting, scattering glass all over the street. Whoever in charge of repairing that's gonna have one hell of a time tomorrow.

After what felt like hours, you made it to your parking lot, but what you saw in the parking lot made you skid to a stop. Catching your breath, you took in the sight before you: the flashing of red and blue lights illuminated the area. A single red ambulance was parked next to two other cop cars. Your legs felt heavy. They burned, actually, you were definitely gonna feel it in the morning. Turning to look behind you one last time, you saw the row of streetlights glowing bright against the darkness as if nothing happened. You were almost mad at yourself for letting one Its tricks get to you, but you couldn't really blame yourself. You had been paranoid all day.

Thoughtlessly, you locked the chain around the bike rack, avoiding the gaze of the few of officers that hung back in the parking lot. Resentfully, you made your way up the flight of stairs, ignoring how the cold metal stung the raw skin where your hands gripped the handlebars. There was a feeling in your chest that you couldn't ignore, as if your lungs were laden with stones that made it hard to breath. This was a sort of dread that you hadn't felt in a long time, and the arduous task of climbing up the stairs to your room made the feeling deepen.

As you reached the top of the staircase, the brief glimpse of two EMTs made the stones that had become your lungs drop even further into your body.  _Don't make me look at this I don't want to look I want to go home and sleep forever I'm so tired I want to sleep forever._  You seemed to repeat this to yourself on an endless loop as you felt something other than yourself push your body up the last remaining steps.

What you saw didn't surprise you in the least, you knew it was coming as soon as you entered the parking lot. The two EMTs were in the process of wheeling out a gurney with a sheet covering the majority of it. Said sheet was stained with something that smelled horribly metallic. You felt your stomach churn.

Gingerly, you stepped around them, making sure not to turn your head into the room. But that wasn't what the universe wanted you to do.

Almost as if control over your body lapsed for a second, you felt your head turn, looking into her room for a brief moment. A moment was all you needed to take in the view before you. The neighbor on your left was peeking out from behind his door. He looked pale, his eyes glassy with the look of someone that should not have seen something. You followed his gaze to the inside of April's room, and you saw a handful of officers in the middle of investigating the scene inside. Looking at what used to be April's living room, your jaw hung limp. The shelf where she kept miscellaneous knickknacks had been damaged - hit - by something, a tell-tale rip in the wallpaper above the one splintered layer said as much. The shelf itself had been mostly intact, with only one level broken, the above objects had miraculously withstood whatever damage had been dealt to it. The only thing that lay shattered on the floor, however, was the row of painted ceramic turtles.

What was on the wall that greeted you upon walking into the living room, however, made whatever fear you had felt bubble into anger. Written by a careless hand was a single word

**TRAITOR**

It was a rust-red, already becoming cakey. It could've only been written in her blood.

You wanted to vomit.

Finally, you turned to your neighbor, hands shaking with your combination of hatred and horror. "What. Happened."

Almost as if you snapped him out of a daze, he turned to you, startled. "I-I don't know I just - I heard something, like an animal, you know? And there w-was screaming and just a whole lotta noise so I just called the cops. What else was I supposed to do, you know? I-I thought someone broke into the place."

His fear was palpable, and did nothing to quell your own emotions. You nodded, giving him a sad, empathetic smile and turned to one of the officers blocking off the room.

"What happened?"

"Just go back inside, we'll handle this."

"Please, I knew her, we-" the memory of your discussion from earlier today resurfaced in your mind. You hadn't exactly left on good terms, and the thought of having not told her to have a good day as you normally did kicked you in the gut. "We were friends. Listen, she has no family in Derry, I was the closest person she knew. What happened?"

The man hooked his fingers into his belt loops, sighing gruffly.

"Well, it's sure not a pretty sight I'll tell ya that." he turned slightly to point back into the room with his thumb.

"Looks like a fuckin' bear got in there. Place's a damn mess."

You stuffed your hands in your pockets, to keep them from shaking too much.

"Is there..did someone break in?"

The officer let out a chuff of a laugh.

"If they did then we can't tell right now. S'like she invited 'em in."

Your blood ran cold. The thought of all this being your fault hammered in the back of your mind no matter how much you told yourself otherwise. In a way it  _was_  your fault. If this was connected to Pennywise in any way, and it undoubtedly was, then it was automatically your fault by association. That was your logic, at least.

"T-thank you," you muttered, stumbling into the door to your room. Fumbling with the keys, you almost dropped them twice until finally, you managed to pry the door open with trembling hands.

"You have a good night, now."

You weren't sure if you replied, but you did remember collapsing on the floor of your living room, chest heaving with every stinging breath as a stream of tears rolled down your cheeks. You were never really a fan of crying, and especially now you hated the thought of It watching you in a state like this.

It took you ten minutes to gather yourself enough to where you were able to walk yourself back to your room, locking the door behind you. You crumpled on the bed, not bothering to wrap a blanket around yourself as the cool night air seeped in and around you. You were exhausted, but not exhausted enough. Sleep was the furthest thing from your mind. Every shadow that was cast by the lucent half-moon outside made you anxious, thinking it was something  _else_  every time.

Saying that you were scared of It was an understatement. Of course you were, how could you not be. But that fear was infected with something not unlike loathing. Loathing of what It turned you into: a self-pitying ball of anxiety that was pretty much opposite to whatever work your therapist had helped you achieve.

And you had powers to speak to the dead, speak  _for_  the dead, you guessed.

You didn't get a bit of sleep that night.

And neither did Michael Hanlon.

That same night, not too long after you arrived back at the apartment complex, the librarian made an important choice. A choice to make a series of calls to some of  _his_  old friends. Six of them, in fact. What he didn't know, but did know at the same time, was that only five would return.

 

**June 1989**

The sound of school bells ringing for the last time that school year seemed to echo throughout Derry as scores of kids poured out of their respective schools. You walked beside your cousin, his friends already heading off into their own direction home. Since your parents were dealing with a particularly busy work day, he had been given the task to escort you home. Coincidentally, you went to the same school.

As you were already a reasonable distance from the school, a commotion behind you caused both you and your cousin to turn around.

A group of kids around your cousin's age were surrounded by a few older-looking kids. You had a vague idea that they were the local bullies, but they scared you. You could tell they scared your cousin too, especially how his grip on your hand tightened and his pace sped up. You struggled to keep up with him.

"Are you okay?" you spoke softly. He nodded, leaning  over slightly so that he was closer to you.

"Don't get near those guys, okay?"

Puzzled by his out-of-character tone, you nodded.

"If they so much as look at you, you run. Got it?"

"Yeah, I get it."

You weren't too scared of them though, but there was something about your usually easygoing cousin being so worked up over those creeps that unnerved you. And seeing them push around a couple of scrawny-looking kids made you keep his warning closer to you. You did, however, find a fraction of ease when a kid - despite his awful stutter - talked back to what looked like the gang's leader.

You hadn't been worried about the kids that  _did_  pick on you. They had surprisingly left you alone for the past couple months. Well, surprisingly was a hyperbole, you had a feeling you knew why they left you alone.

"Hey," your cousin pulled you out from watching whatever was unfolding behind you. "The park's not too far from here, wanna get some ice cream?"

You eagerly nodded.

The sun was at it's peak, but the cool ice cream in your hand erased the heat seeping up from the ground. You were still thinking about the fleeting encounter with Derry's delinquents, but the more you thought about it the less worried you became. You had already come to terms with your clingy new clown friend, well, you sorta had to now that it started giving you "presents" that were more than just music boxes.

It was almost like one of those stray cats you saw sometimes in your neighborhood. At first It started leaving some random, grimy-looking toys. They ranged from stuffed animals to dolls, sometimes something random like a yo-yo. You always found them carefully placed at the foot of your bed. You never noticed it being placed there. You would keep them in an old toy box you kept under your bed.

Recently, though, Pennywise's gifts started getting a little weirder, which was to be expected.

For the past month or so you started receiving things like clothes. Usually shirts, but they were always dirty and stained to the point where they would be unwearable. You kept those in the toy box too.

Your most recent gift worried you, though.

It was a finger. Or half of a finger. It was pudgy and round, like that of a child's with a single filthy fingernail still on the tip. You gagged when you saw it, and for some unknown reason you never alerted your parents. To be honest, you were afraid of what would happen if you did.

Still, you comforted yourself with the fact that It wouldn't hurt you. You hoped It wouldn't hurt you.


	9. The Immolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok uhh just gonna say it now but if dubious consent sorta stuff makes you uncomfortable please be careful the last half of this chapter has a lot of it up until the flashback  
> also i really didnt mean to make this chapter so fuckin long it's an absolute monster but uuhh enjoy i guess ??

Sleeping felt wrong.

The possibility of finding respite after what It did to your neighbor, your  _friend_ , burned a hole through your gut. The more you thought of it, the farther you drifted from a state of repose and closer to revulsion. It's sort of a mixed bag, really. What fear you did have was bedrock compared to the amalgamation of anger and remorse that had bubbled to the surface of your mind.

You knew it wasn't really your fault, but some irrational thought couldn't stop reminding you of every minute action that lead to this.  _I shouldn't have told that librarian I should've stayed quiet I should've stayed out of it_  vs  _Who cares what It does I did the right thing I just wanted to help Who would if I didn't It was for the best_.

If there were ever a moment where you felt out of control in your life, that paled in comparison to now. There was nothing that scared you and upset you more than losing control of your life, whatever life you had chosen to live anyway. The fact that out of practically nowhere you had been dragged into some otherworldly conflict by a force you couldn't control was more distressing than anything your anxiety ever brought you. It was an awful feeling. Even more awful when you were harshly reminded that It had such a powerful influence on Derry, and to an extent, Derry's inhabitants.

You didn't sleep.

You had stayed up until around 1:30 am, and by then the commotion outside from the unlucky souls that were tasked with cleaning up the scene had died down about an hour ago. The lights from the ambulance and police cars were long gone, and the apartment felt quiet. It was the sort of quiet you hear when you're underwater, at the moment when you're holding your breath but you don't feel like you can hold it for much longer. It was suffocating.

What made it worse was how you  _knew_  the Derry police would soon forget the events of tonight.  _They always forget._ They could gather all the evidence they could, mull it over some coffee and donuts, say they have a lead but never go after said lead and ultimately her case would remain unsolved. It was how all those children stayed missing, how any grisly crime in Derry flew over the heads of its citizens. And it was all thanks to your "friend". Thinking about it made you feel sick.

You couldn't stay here, the apartment felt  _wrong_. With every passing minute you grew more uncomfortable being in your room alone. You needed to leave, and you didn't think you could wait until the sun came up.

Hectically, you grabbed the small backpack-purse that hung from the back of your desk's chair and tossed your phone in with whatever you had forgotten to take out from it last time you used it. Tugging the first jacket you could find on, you eyed your music box. Sighing, you threw it in there too. On your way out, you shoved the keys to your apartment - and your car - in your back pocket. It was almost 2 am now, and as quietly as you could, you shut the door to your room for what felt like the last time.

Tonight was particularly chilly, and you shivered as soon as you felt the air hit your face. You tried not to look at her room, but it was almost inevitable seeing how the yellow police tape that guarded her room seemed to glow in the dark, reflecting the soft moonlight. If it weren't for that pallid illumination shining into the open hall, you would've stepped directly on the semi-dried flowers that lay in a messy heap in front of her door. It was like someone had dropped them off in a hurry, the ribbon that barely kept them together tied in a botched bow. Attached to the bow was a card, slightly stained with what seemed to be some type of ordure. You scrunched your nose.

You know it wasn't your place to pry, but something didn't feel right about those flowers. You felt like you had seen them somewhere before, but the local florists never carried sunflowers this big. They were slightly wilted, but still radiant. You would think they'd brighten the space, but something about them felt wrong. Another thing that threw you off was the card.

You knelt down, picking up the card with shivering hands, and turned it over. You seethed, almost dropping the card like it had burned you but you couldn't tear your eyes away. Embossed across the top of the card in bright scarlet letters was:

**MAY SHE REST IN THE DEPTHS OF DERRY**

**NEED A SHOULDER TO CRY ON? YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME!**

**FROM YOUR FRIEND, YOU-KNOW-WHO**

It was signed with a hastily scribbled balloon with smiley face. What a brat.

You crumpled the card in your hand. Those flowers, you knew where you had seen them before. They were the same sunflowers that decorated the abandoned house on 29 Neibolt Street. You were shivering, but not from the cold. If you didn't know where you were going, you did now. You feel like you didn't have a choice.

You grabbed the sunflowers, hands shaking, and threw them in a nearby trash bin.  
  
  


It felt like a lifetime had passed since you used your car. You preferred biking your way around town - as Derry was the definition of a small town - but this late at night, you didn't feel safe. Not like you were safe anywhere anyway. You guessed it was the parody of security that made you think you were safe, but it's the thought that counts, right?

There was no one to steer you in any direction now. There was no Turtle (although the Turtle hadn't been of that much help either way), there was no April, and you sure as hell weren't gonna listen to the clown. Your knuckles were white as they gripped the wheel. You shut your eyes for a moment, breathing in and out slowly. You knew what you were about to do was beyond risky, it was a death wish. And although it was most likely a reckless decision, it would be like some twisted form of catharsis for you. You drove out of the complex and into the night.

It was just as quiet outside as it was inside.

It was a different kind of quiet, though. What was the suffocating silence of the apartment, out here felt very much like you were being observed. It reminded you of the times your father would recount stories of him and your grandfather going hunting in Maine's woodland. How he would instinctively hold his breath as soon as they caught sight of a deer and vice versa. How the sound of the tree's branches rattling in the wind was the only form of white noise the forest had to offer. It was full of sound, but at the same time there was none at all. You turned on the radio.

You switched between stations, not bothering to finish any song as none really appealed to you at the moment. You decided to stick to Derry's local nightly radio show. You didn't bother to pay attention to what anyone was saying.

Until you heard the laugh, that is.

_Of fucking course_

It was  _the_  laugh. The melodic, cloying laugh that had haunted you since you were a child. Goosebumps rolled across your arms.

" _That WAS a good one, Sharon! But I thiiiink one of our listeners has a better joke! Do you, Y/N? Aww, too bad they aren't here to tell it. But I bet YOU can guess what it iiiis. Can you guess, Y/N?_ "

You clenched your jaw.

" _Since time's running out I'll just have to spoil it for ya! The joke iisss..YOUUHHEEHHEHEH! What a shocker!_ "

"Can you just shut the fuck up for once," you motioned to turn off the radio but a jolt went through your hand and up your arm. You yelped, swerving to the other side of the road by a foot or two. You hissed, trying to shake the feeling from your hand. Pennywise's laughter filled your car.

"Says it's a friend then pulls this shit honestly I expected nothing less," you muttered to yourself. The radio was still on.

" _Ohh, is Y/N upset? Is my little star upset?_ "

You glared at it. If It could hear you, you hoped It saw you shoot it the finger too.

" _Now, that's no way to be around friends, is it?_ "

"We were NEVER friends! God, why do you keep saying that?!"

" _You're just hurting my fffeelings, Y/N,_ " Pennywise threw in a few extra sobs for good measure. It wasn't that great at pretending but boy did it try. You rolled your eyes.

"Feelings, huh? Didn't think you had any of those if we're being honest."

The radio was eerily silent.

It reminded you of the time you gored It with a fence pole. The way It looked at you with such an expression of betrayal, you had definitely hurt it in some way. You thought with such confidence that it was one of Its many fabricated emotions, but now you weren't so sure.

"Oh,  _now_  you decide to shut up."  _Didn't wanna talk to you either,_  you thought. That was partially a lie. You did want to talk to It. You wanted to scream in It's face at the top of your lungs. But that would have to wait until later. You weren't entirely sure if there was gonna be a later, though.

You turned off the radio.  
  
  


The rest of the drive felt like no time had passed at all.

You were surprised Pennywise hadn't tried to pull anything else on your way to Neibolt Street, but something told you that It wanted you there. You grimaced at the thought of It  _wanting_  you anywhere.

You parked your car on the road opposite to the house. You had to admit, it just looked creepier in the middle of the night, but you didn't feel an ounce of fear in your body. If you did, then you managed to bury it fairly well. You shrugged the backpack on one shoulder as you locked your car. Something about that action felt strangely trivial. You shook the feeling off.

The gate was open, as always, and the sunflowers that stood starkly among the weeds in the front yard swayed with the wind. All things considered, it was a calm, quiet night. You stepped over a discarded fence pole or two, almost ignoring them completely had it not been for the tip of your shoe jostling one as you passed it by. Picking it up, the familiar weight of it gave you some semblance of security. Despite the anger still fuming, you weren't here to fight It. At least, you hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The door to the house was closed, and it didn't take much to push it open. Wind whistled through the door frame, rattling the loose windows. The smell of detritus still hung in the stagnant air but it felt empty,  _really_  empty. The last time you stepped inside the house you knew it was "vacant" of anything other than rats, but there had been a vibe. Like a change in the atmosphere that just felt like there was something more. You didn't feel it now.

_Probably out scaring the life out of some poor kid_ , you thought.

You didn't want to admit it to yourself, but a part of you was relieved. You wanted to kick yourself for even considering the thought of feeling something like relief over Pennywise terrorizing someone instead of you, but you couldn't help it. Despite your contempt for It, you weren't sure if your confrontation-phobic self was ready to confront It. You exhaled, tired and ragged. It was almost 3 am.

Unzipping your backpack, you grabbed around for a bit until you took out your phone. The dim, shallow light from your phone's flashlight just made the house all the more eerie. Any normal person wouldn't take one step on the front porch in the middle of the day, let alone in the house's foyer in the middle of the night. But you had known nothing would bother you during your descent, and if something had, you would just have to find a way to deal with it.

As you passed through the kitchen, you saw the marks It left when it chased you out. It's claws had sculpted deep gashes on the wallpaper and thin, jagged lines on the floor. A shiver ran down your spine. That wallpaper could've been you. Instead of the three, crooked slashes running across the wall, they could've been running cross your back, your stomach, your chest - but it was only a thought, albeit brief.

You continued walking into the hall down to the basement.

The memory of how it dragged you down there clouded your mind. Involuntarily, you gulped. Clutching the pole a little tighter, you took your time walking down the stairs, each one creaking beneath your feet. The basement was stuffier than the ground floor and the air had gotten so thick with the smell of dirt and rotting wood you almost let out a deep cough. Scrunching your nose, you took a wary step into the room. As the light of your phone passed over the room, the sight of discarded clothing and the occasional toy raised a fresh row of goosebumps over your arm. You didn't know how you hadn't noticed them the first time, and right now you wished you hadn't noticed them at all.

You stepped closer to the well in the center of the room, crumbling, a relic from a past you didn't think to care about. You didn't need to read any of Derry's history books to know that this was a place of grim origins. You could  _feel_  it. The stench of rot and sewer wafted from the well's opening. Peering down its entrance, it looked very much like something out of a horror movie.  _Next thing I know Samara's gonna pop out,_  you thought. You let yourself snicker out loud. You weren't sure if you'd rather want to deal with Pennywise or Samara if you were being honest.

It had only just occurred to you that you had no way of getting down there. Puffing out an exasperated exhale, you looked around the room. It had only taken you a minute to see the pulley attached to the ceiling, and the thick rope riddled with knots that hung from it. Stuffing as much of the pole you could fit into your backpack and tucking your phone under your arm, you grabbed the rope, testing its strength by tugging it a bit. It seemed sturdy enough.

You lowered the rope into the well, not quite hearing it hit a bottom. This was a really bad idea. With your phone in your pocket, light shining straight ahead, you took a breath. The invisible countdown clock that had been ticking in the back of your mind was as loud as a passing train. Your heart seemed to beat in tandem with it. You breathed slowly. In and out. In and out.

You knew you didn't have the time to wait for Pennywise to come to you, and if your most recent dream told you anything, Pennywise didn't have time to waste either. Whoever it was in your dream, those people that the librarian seemed to know, they were getting closer. Somewhere in you knew It knew this too.

The smell of sewer had only gotten worse in the well, and you knew that you were getting closer to It. The rope was scratchy against your skin as you lowered yourself deeper into the well, your makeshift spear scraping against its old brick walls. The sound left a ringing in your ears as it echoed up the well and into the deafening silence of the Neibolt house. You had been slowly climbing down, each foot taking its turn to be propped against the wall, for what seemed much longer than it had been. It took you almost ten minutes until a wave of pure sewage filled the air.

You had definitely smelled it before you saw it. Somewhere not too deep in the well was a gaping hole in the wall. The tunnel looked as though something had dug it by hand, whose hand it was you were sure you knew. You grabbed your phone from your pocket, shining it down the tunnel. It was grimier than the well itself, the distant reverb of dripping water making its way to where you were. You lightly swung yourself to the tunnel's edge, feet slipping slightly on the damp filth but catching hold on whatever lined its surface. The tunnel was small, forcing you to crouch into it on your hands and knees. Almost reluctantly, you let go of the rope and crawled further into the tunnel.

Your guts lurched as your hand touched the tunnel's cold floor, the other raised while supporting your phone. It's light only reached a couple feet, but it was better than nothing. The tunnel didn't seem to go on for that long anyway. From what you could see, whatever lined the tunnel seemed to be what anyone would imagine to be down those storm drains you'd pass by on a street. You were glad you wore a pair of jeans you didn't particularly care for. The floor beneath you was a weird combination of something soft yet solid, and you had no desire to know what it comprised of.

The short journey through the tunnel had only taken you all of five minutes - mostly due to you just wanting to get it over with - and when your feet splashed onto actual sewer ground you were glad for a quick moment. Wiping off excess grime on your jeans, you looked down one end of the sewer to the one behind you. Fuck.

You had no idea which way to go, and in the back of your mind you were berating yourself for having not planned this out at all.

You were about to walk down the tunnel to your left when you heard something move in the graywater behind you. It wasn't so much a splash as it was more like someone lightly dragging a finger across its surface. You turned around, shoulders tense and bracing yourself for whatever was behind you.

It was a balloon. A single red balloon with its long, white string dragging through the shallow water. No surprise there. It hovered before you, cheery and bright against the gloomy background. The word WELCOME! was splayed across its center in bold white letters. You slowly, tentatively pulled the fence pole from your backpack.

"Didn't expect to see  _you_ ," you totally expected it.

The balloon didn't move.

"You brought me here in the first place. Might as well finish the job, right?"

To your surprise, the balloon floated away. It gently moved down the opposite tunnel, stopping suddenly at its first turn. It took you a minute to realize that it was waiting for you at a door. It was covered in age-old rust and looked like it hadn't been open in years. Until you came around, you guessed. The handle was cold and damp, and it took all your strength to get it to budge an inch. The balloon stood behind you, watching.

"Wow, thanks for the help." you grumbled.

You stopped for a moment, taking a short breath and pushed against the door again, this time with what felt like your whole body. Finally, the door creaked open, slowly opening into a larger room. Muddy water poured from the ceiling like an urban waterfall, splashing into a circular opening in the center. You shone your phone light across the room, walking around the circular basin in its center. There was a surprising amount of graffiti, mostly flashy tags with the occasional crude drawing here and there. Your light passed over a particularly intriguing one, and you took a minute to read it.

Scrawled in deep red paint was a strange symbol that resembled an eye, a hypnotic swirl in its center. Below that was the hastily written message:  **ALL HAIL THE CRIMSON KING**. Weird. Something about that gave you a feeling of deja vu, but you decided not to think about it for too long. You had other things to do.

Your phone's light passed over the rest of the room, eventually finding three other tunnels. You turned to look behind you.

As if on cue, the balloon floated ahead of you, string dragging across the surface of the greywater that seeped into your shoes.  _This is so dumb_ , you thought as you sloshed through the cold water, following your companion into another tunnel. You twisted through sharp turns, tunnels that shortened and widened at random, and water that went from shallow to above your ankle. You shivered. The farther you went into the sewers the colder it became, and almost everything you were wearing was drenched in sewage. You felt gross.

You dragged the fence pole on the ground, twirling it in circles in the water as you hummed the lullaby from your music box.

"I know you're not really down here."

The balloon kept floating through the seemingly endless tunnels.

"Too busy finding a midnight snack?"

You knew by now that the balloon was only an extension of the clown itself, but just being in Its rabbit hole of a home gave you the feeling that Pennywise was definitely not here. You would've felt It by now.

You took another turn, this time through a much wider passage. Your eyes adjusted to the sudden change in light, which wasn't much. It only went from dark to dim, still, you turned off your phone's flashlight. This tunnel seemed to open into a larger area, larger than the one behind the door. It smelled worse than the ordure behind you, you scrunched your nose. It was the smell of rot, but not just the smell of decaying waste. Somewhere in that awful mix was the unmistakable putrescence of something dead.

The balloon quickly hovered ahead of you, waiting at the end of the tunnel. This "welcome" sign felt much more sinister, and you knew you were nearing the end of your excursion. Before you could reach the end, the balloon popped, its sound sending a thundering echo throughout the sewers. You jumped, only slightly, still gripping onto your makeshift lance.  _You think I would've been used to that by now_ , you told yourself. As you stepped into the cistern, the sour odor of what was most likely decomposing flesh filled your senses. It took a surprising amount of self restraint not to gag, self restraint and the fact that you were staring at a towering pile of trash.

_Not trash, trophies_ , a thought formed in the back of your mind.

The hoard almost reached the top of the cistern, where the light of the moon poured over it like a veil. Your jaw hung limp in morbid awe, the tower's twisting shape guiding your eyes down to its base. The tower seemed to be made from assorted children's items - trikes, toy houses, dolls, even clothing - were stacked on top of each other. You didn't want to think about how the ones at the bottom seemed like they were from an entirely different era.

You walked further into the cistern, hands clenched around the pole. Although you could tell Pennywise wasn't currently at home, you knew It could make an appearance any time it wanted. There was a good chance It already knew you were here.

As you walked around the tower, you saw a large form at its base. It was a caravan, or rather, what was left of it. It had definitely seen better days, the wood was horribly chipped and its paint had long since faded. You could still see what the caravan's original image conveyed, albeit barely. On the caravan's visible side was the worn down portrait of a clown clad in a smile and white facepaint with a wan red button nose. The ruff it donned was not unlike the one Pennywise wore. Though the clown looked nothing like the Pennywise you knew, surrounding the portrait in loud white letters clearly read  **PENNYWISE THE DANCING CLOWN**.

The implications of it left you feeling incredibly uncomfortable, and just staring at it made a shiver pass down your spine.

You continued to inspect Its trophy collection, the distant feeling of heartache churning your stomach, when something sitting atop dirt-encrusted blankets and what looked like a child's sled caught your eye. It was notably less filthy than anything else around it, save for a few scuffs here and there. It was a regular picture frame, but what it contained almost made you drop the pole you gripped in one hand.

It was a photo of you, specifically your college graduation photo. You had wondered where it had gone from its spot on a shelf in your room along with a number of other missing objects, and you guessed you had your answer now. But the photo was different. It looked like someone had messily painted over it with a thick, almost black substance that strangely drifted up the photo rather than down. That wasn't what creeped you out though, it was the fact that whatever the liquid was - it  _definitely_  wasn't paint, that much you knew - had been crudely painted across your eyes and neck. You cocked your head to the side, face contorting into a grimace.

You continued to walk around the tower, eventually passing in front of other side of the caravan. To your surprise there was a door, but that wasn't what struck you as weird. There was a soft, orange light that poured from the crack in the door. You drew closer to it, like a magnet, and climbed on top of the mound of trash that passed for stairs.

The door was covered in long, thin scratches, and a gaping hole filled the space where a doorknob would be. You pushed it open, the orange glow fading into a rich red light. The inside of the caravan looked like the set of a mini theater. Ragged streamers hung loosely from the ceiling, and the source of the red-orange light seemed to be coming from an old pair of stage lights on either side of the caravan. How they still functioned was a mystery.  _Is this where It sleeps?_  you wondered.  _Does It even sleep? What else could It be doing for 27 years?_

All those specifics didn't matter, at least, not now. What mattered was that the door to the caravan had just slammed shut behind you.

_No no no no_

You jumped, dropping the fence pole and scrambling for the door. As there was no knob, prying it open seemed impossible. Still, you banged on the door, screaming for It to let you out (which you knew was futile but at least you tried). You felt your voice go hoarse, and you let your arms fall to your sides as you slid down to the floor. The caravan had undoubtedly been a trap, and you had walked right into it. You slammed your fist on the floor in frustration.

Looking up, the hole where a doorknob once was seemed to mock you. You glared at it, until something - some _one_  - glared back.

You gasped, frantically crawling backward, hand groping for the pole you had dropped on the floor.  _It was right there it was on the floor how is it not there_ , your mind raced in a frightened haze. Your eyes never left the glowing yellow eye in the vacant space in the door, almost seeming to burn a hole through you.

You felt your back hit the far side of the caravan, and despite how badly you felt yourself shaking, you steeled yourself for whatever It could possibly do to you. Pennywise laughed, but it was not its usual childlike giggle. This was a low rumble, deep and reverberating throughout the cistern. The door slowly swung open, and your jaw hung limp in horror.

Pennywise's body was impossibly contorted, its spine twisting in a way that would've made the most flexible of gymnasts squirm. Its head remained facing straight despite the sharp bend in its torso, and there was a familiar insidious grin on its face. Of  _course_  It wouldn't bend down like any normal person. The clown waved in a way that seemed too casual given the circumstances. Not missing a beat, It righted itself, bones cracking back into place all while its head stayed in a straightforward position, eyes completely walleyed and smile unwavering. With a flourished shake embellished by the jingle of Its hidden bells, Pennywise bowed, arms splayed outward like a performer after a show. You felt your fingernails dig into the soft flesh of your palms.

"What a surprise!" it giggled. "You must reeeally like it here to come by twice." Pennywise took one step closer. "You should tell me next time," It took another step.

"Q-Quit playing around, what do you want?"

A long string of drool dripped from its lips and splattered on the floor as its eyes drifted to focus on you.

"Thiiis is new," it wheezed. Pennywise dropped to the floor like a ragdoll, slightly shaking the caravan. It sat hunched over, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around its legs. You drew your legs closer to your chest.

Your movement seemed to trigger something in It, and Pennywise jerked forward. It moved on all fours, skittering toward you at a pace that was too fast to register. You curled into a fetal position against the wall, eyes slamming shut. You felt Pennywise's large hands cup both sides of your face, its nails threatening to puncture its gloves and into your skin. You felt fresh tears gather at the edge of your eyes.

At this proximity, the smell of Pennywise's hot breath hit your face in waves. You tried not to gag at the scent of carrion, but the fact that It couldn't stop itself from huffing out wheezy giggles made that all the more difficult. You tried not to look at It.

Pennywise roughly moved your head to the side, causing a muffled whimper to escape your lips. There was no point in trying to move away from It, there was nowhere you could go if you tried. The clown caged you against the wall you had inadvertently trapped yourself in. Pennywise buried its face in the crook of your neck, taking a deep sniff of whatever scent you were unintentionally giving off. You hated it when It did that. Only this time was different, you couldn't quite put your finger on it but the fact that you couldn't read It frightened you more than your previous encounters. It continued to detect your fear, or tried to, trailing down the length of your neck sniffing and grunting with frustration. Its hands kept you trapped in place, it was almost unfair. Yours wildly groped around, uselessly trying to push it away from you. It was impossibly strong, and you knew there was a slim chance you could ever overpower it.

"Where is it where where where are you hidiiiing," You could feel Its cold nose brush over your sternum, and one hand left your face, stretching the hem of your shirt down. The exposed skin raised a new row of goosebumps on your skin. The hand still plastered to your face adjusted itself, this time tightly gripping your chin. Your own hands had found a place among the clown's ruff, gripping it as tight as you could while your legs kicked and shoved beneath It.

Pennywise took one last whiff of you, stopping abruptly on the space above your heart. You felt fear,  _real_  fear, rise in your gut. You knew that It had a penchant for being unpredictable but this was too much - too  _real_. As suddenly as it started, you felt a thick, slimy appendage lap at your bare skin. You choked on a sob, despite the rapidly growing terror in your heart you didn't want to give It the satisfaction of hearing you scream. You felt your shirt begin to give out from its grip, a slow tearing noise hitting your ears as you saw Pennywise's claws poke out from its gloves.

"Here it's here it's HERE IT'S HERE,"

Without any hint of hesitation, Pennywise tore your shirt, exposing your chest to the cold, sticky air of the cistern. It burst into a fit of giggles, alternating from a trill to a rumble as it continued to drag its tongue along the length of your neck like a hungry animal. Your hands had clenched into fists, pounding against its firm chest in a desperate attempt to fight It off. Tears were streaming down your face and onto the hand that was still clenched around your face.

"Get off get off get off what are you doing get off me GET OFF ME," you cried, still kicking against the body above you.

Pennywise growled in irritation, it was an animalistic sound, and for once you felt truly afraid of It. It adjusted its position, pinning your legs underneath its own, practically sitting on your lap as it continued to feed off of you. Pennywise had settled itself dangerously close to your jugular, and when the sound of a sick squelch and stretch of flesh reached your ears, you knew that Its true, razor sharp teeth had begun to show themselves. You felt them poke at your skin, testing how far they could go before puncturing the thin layer, which wasn't much. It felt like a thousand tiny pinches in your neck, and even then you could tell that Pennywise was actually  _trying_  to restrain itself. As it licked at the blood pooling from the incisions, you could feel It laugh against your neck. Once again, that fear had mixed itself with something else.

"I-I hate you. I hate you I hate you I h-"

Pennywise only mocked you, throwing in some extra fake sobs for effect.

You tried to slide yourself out from under it, but the hand around your face had just snaked down, setting itself in a vice grip around your wrist. You were shivering - borderline convulsing - underneath It, and Pennywise let out another quick burst of giggles.

"Your shiiineehhehehe! It's so so  _so_  TASTY!" Pennywise took another small bite from your shoulder, this one just a bit deeper than the last. This time, you did let a cry slip out, and you felt Pennywise's lips spread into a smile against your skin. "You all are so much tastier you're delicious and you're all for  _me_ ,"

With no hand to stop you, you turned your head to the side as far as you could and shut your eyes. You didn't want to see It.

"You are for me aallll for me the Red King showed you to me you stayed here for me me me me memememe,"

"No I'm not," it took all your strength to look back at It directly. "This isn't for  _you_."

Pennywise laughed. "My little star is a liar liar liaaar."

You gulped, but despite the lump caught in your throat, you spoke. " _You're_  the one who's afraid, I know."

It carried on lapping at your wounds as if you hadn't breathed a word.

"Th-Those people, they scare you..don't they?"

Pennywise hissed, and after a pause that was a second too long, it finally replied "I don't get scared."

"Liar. Liar. Liaaar." Somehow, you found it in you to smirk.

Pennywise bit into you a third time, this one uncomfortably close to the space above your heart. You couldn't stop yourself from screaming, voice already becoming raw. That had hurt significantly more than the other two times. What brought a new wave of fear to your mind was how each time It pierced your flesh, the deeper its teeth sunk into you. You knew how easy it would be for It to simply rend your skin from your bones in one graceless crunch of its jaw. You shivered.

"You would like that, wouldn't youueuhheuhhuh," Pennywise tore itself away from you for a brief moment to have its own laughing fit. It was enjoying this a little too much. Your face contorted into a grimace.

It wasted no time in licking up the blood that poured from the lacerations, only whatever self-restraint It had imposed on itself was quickly fading. The sudden sensation of something sucking on your skin made you squirm in terror. You gasped, body writhing beneath the clown's and desperately trying to kick it off again. Your legs were pinned to the ground like concrete. The sinking feeling that maybe you weren't getting out of this finally hit you, and you screamed again.

Pennywise's hands had long since become talons, chaining your wrists to the floor of the caravan as its nails dug into the old wood. You could feel It push its head against your shoulder, frantically trying to taste more of whatever your blood carried. For a moment you almost thought it had whined.  _It wouldn't_ , you thought.  _I'm not even sure if It could._

It sucked at your cuts again, pushing you further down. It was so strong without trying that you couldn't help but go along with its movements. For a minute, Pennywise stopped, warm and ragged breaths hitting your still-fresh cuts. You weren't all sure if it was involuntary, (at least you hoped it was) but as you felt Its lips return to the warm and sore spot on your sternum, your hands tugged at the clown's suit, letting out an exhausted gasp of a moan simultaneously.

You felt your cheeks light up with embarrassment and shame, even more so when Pennywise stopped feeding. The clown looked at you, fiery yellow eyes burning holes through your own.

You said nothing,  _couldn't_  say anything rather. Whatever you said in attempt to justify the sound would inevitably end in It mocking you. Pennywise said nothing either, it only looked directly at you while a smile crept across its face, its razor sharp buckteeth lengthening even more to needle-like shards.

"If  _that's_  what you wanted then we should've gone to the kissing bridge, hhmm?" Pennywise laughed so loudly it echoed throughout the caravan, leaving a ringing in your ears.

"Sh-Shut up."

The clown's gaze left yours as it went back to gather the blood that had stuck to your skin like honey on its cold tongue. You shut your eyes, hands still clenched tight around the silky fabric of Its costume. You felt its teeth run over the soft, clammy flesh that it hadn't bitten into, leaving a trail of pinkish saliva across your collar. Pennywise hummed against your neck. Against everything your mind was screaming at you, you felt a painfully familiar heat build in your core. As if you weren't already embarrassed.

With nowhere to hide your burning face, you buried it in Its surprisingly soft hair. You hoped it didn't notice your whole body beginning to shake, but knowing It, it already did. You had little feeling in your legs with Pennywise having set itself upon your lap for the past god-knows-how-many minutes, but you unmistakably felt the clown buck against your numb pelvis. You choked on another moan. At that same moment, Pennywise took a fourth, final bite from your other shoulder, teeth sinking deeper than what it had previously done. You wanted to scream, but only a harsh, breathless whine managed to be pushed from your mouth. It hurt so much. The only sound in the caravan was that of blood being drawn into the creature's maw, skin and teeth meeting with a sickening squelch. You wanted to vomit.

You could feel yourself wanting to pass out, your vision blurring. The gaudy painted background of the caravan seemed to dissolve into a hellish, fiery landscape. How appropriate.

Pennywise drew itself away from your still-bleeding shoulder, the warm fluid dripping from its lips like a thick wine. With its "help" you miraculously managed to not lose too much, but god were you going to feel sore in the morning. It brought both hands up to the sides of your face. Your vision was still fading in and out but you could clearly see Its face. Pennywise's talons poked into the skin of your cheeks, and you could see tears well up in your eyes again. The clown brought its face closer to yours.

Its hands were trembling, even now you could tell that It was hesitant to touch you. After all It had done, Pennywise was still afraid of you - or rather, people  _like_  you. Though you didn't think It could ever feel fear, the slim chance that It did gave you comfort.

Pennywise stroked your hair, running its claws over the scabs on the side of your cheek. The sight of It with your blood smeared over its greasepainted face caused a shiver to run down the length of your spine. It didn't help that its drool continued to pour from its lips and down to your exposed chest, stinging the cuts that littered your shoulder and neck. You weren't sure if it was you that imagined it, but the clown's eyes abruptly shifted from a golden yellow to a deep blue. Pennywise smiled.

You were shivering terribly, and Pennywise shushed you like a mother would do to a child, one long talon pressing itself against your lips. You recoiled from every touch It gave you.

Most likely knowing this, Pennywise hunched over you, pulling you closer to itself with both arms. The two of you lay in a crumpled heap on the floor of the caravan, with you curled into a fetal position, both hands pressed against your throbbing wounds. You could feel your blood mixed with its drool drip from its jaws, and whatever hadn't been caught on its ruff slithering down to your cheek.

"Th-They're going to k-kill you, you know." It took all of your strength to look up at It, neck straining in indescribable pain to point your gaze at the clown. "I know that. I-I know you do too."

Pennywise said nothing, but the way its brow furrowed in an almost juvenile anger at you told you enough.

"I hope they do it, Penny."

It licked the remaining blood from its lips.

You had to admit, whatever was in Pennywise's general chest area was vastly warmer than anywhere else in its body. You didn't question it, you were too tired to question anything. You were pretty sure it was because of the blood loss, but you hadn't slept at all in the past day so there was that. Your body slumped against the hard, almost chitinous chest that Pennywise kept hidden beneath the silk suit.

You could feel your eyelids begin to grow heavy, and as if It sensed your increasing drowsiness Pennywise dragged its claws down your ribs, all while breathing heavily down your neck. You heard it mumbling that same, strange language it had fallen into that time it visited you in your room. You wanted to gag.

“You know,” you said, attempting to settle yourself into as comfortable a position as possible “You  _could_  count sheep instead.”

Pennywise only giggled, tugging you closer and nuzzling into your stiff neck. “There are nooo sheep here,” it whispered, hand crawling over your face to effectively shut you up. “But there are  _pleeenty_  of your bonesss.”

It took all your self-restraint not to bite Its hand.

 

That night, you did have a dream.

You weren't floating, there was no void. It was you,  _really_  you. Not the dreamself that was tethered to your physical body by an invisible thread. It was you. And you were standing in the cistern.

It looked the same, but vastly different. It was hard to see, but your gaze was guided upward. You couldn't scream, you could only watch. At the top of Pennywise's tower was a floating carousel of children. "Children" was a loose term. It was what was left of them, kids of all ages surrounded by their own decaying clothing and severed body parts. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, you wanted to leave and erase what you saw before you from your mind.

This wasn't a dream.

Looking at the floating kids, you understand. They were like you, once. Each of them, with varying degrees of a shine, trapped in an eternal spiral in what was essentially an eldritch aberration's pantry. The fact that you knew that you would be one of them hit you like a train. You’re the shiny new coin to Its magpie. A toy that would one day be discarded with the rest of the “starkids” that It stored in that horrible floating carousel It had made for itself in the cistern. You’re Its means to an end.

The only value Pennywise saw in you (at least, from what you could see) was that of a collector happening to stumble upon a missing piece of its hoard. The clown, no, the creature could only feel hate and anger, and to an extent amusement. You were never friends, or, whatever  _else_  you were.

You wanted to leave this dream. You wanted to do many things, mostly involving beating Pennywise to pulp but that would come later. You hoped. To your immense relief, you did leave. You felt yourself slowly fade out from the awful scene before you and back into reality.

 

You didn't think you'd actually feel comforted by the cold, scratchy floor of the caravan in the cistern. You were incredibly groggy and sore, your body still screaming for you to lay back down. You couldn't quite blink the sleep from your eyes but you could already tell you were alone. You looked down at yourself. You shirt was practically ripped in two pieces, hanging on to your body by threads. You didn't even want to  _think_  about what fluids covered your cold body, but you did. You couldn't help it.

Staring up at the ceiling of the caravan, you laughed. You laughed until the echo of your voice filled the cistern. You laughed until you felt your sides hurt. You laughed until you felt your voice go hoarse. You laughed until tears began to stream from your face.

 

**July 1989**

You hadn't gone out much that summer.

The air was hot and humid, and there wasn't anything you could do without your parents being constantly worried about you. It wasn't the best summer in Derry, especially not with the rapidly increasing number of disappearing children. You knew who - what - was behind them. Well, you didn't  _know_  but you had a feeling. The fact that It repeatedly assured you that it wouldn't hurt you didn't help much.

You were preparing to go to sleep, blanket almost hanging from the edge of your bed, as you clung to your pillow. You couldn't go to sleep, wouldn't? You weren't sure. Something had been worrying you lately. The little "gifts" that Pennywise had made a point of giving you had stopped suddenly, and It hadn't visited you in over a week. You weren't sure why, but something about it felt wrong.

Almost as if the universe itself had listened in on your thoughts, you felt a pressure on the far side of your bed, slowly growing into a dip. You sprung up from your position, blanket dropping to the floor. Pennywise pressed a gloved finger to its lips, silently shushing you.

You weren't sure if it was just the lighting in your room, but something looked  _wrong_  with its right eye. It was bloodshot and dark, like the bruises you sometimes saw the older kids in your school get after a run-in with the local bullies. The small worried knot in your heart grew.

"Are you alright?" you whispered. Pennywise remained still but after a minute, it slowly nodded.

You leaned against your pillow, slightly relieved. Pennywise hunched over like one of the girls in your class would do while telling a secret. You listened intently.

"I have to go away soon,"

You cocked your head to the side in confusion. "But..you just got here?"

Pennywise rocked back and forth in its seat, almost nervously. "I'll still be here, but I have to ssleep. A looong sleep," It looked at you directly, something that it rarely did. You looked away. "But  _you'll_  still be here too, will ya, Y/N?"

You nodded. Pennywise stayed looking at you on your bed, and after a quick minute it stood up. You picked up your blanket from the floor. You weren't sure how It was planning to leave your room without either of your parents knowing, but before it could take another step, you spoke.

"When will you be back?"

Pennywise's head twitched, turning around to look back at you. It licked the gathering drool from its bottom lip. You didn't notice it.

"You'll know."

Your mouth twitched to the side. You really didn't like when Pennywise was vague like that. To Its surprise - and to an extent your own surprise - you hopped off the bed, dashing to the clown in your room and wrapping your arms around its waist.

"I'm," you gulped. "I'm gonna miss you."

Pennywise went completely stiff, and you got the feeling that your hug had, ironically, made it uncomfortable. Before you could let go, Pennywise disappeared from your room like smoke in the wind. Sighing, you went back to bed. You felt like sleeping even less now, so instead you just stared outside your window, music box open and playing the calliope tune that had slowly but surely grown on you.

You can't believe you missed It to begin with.  _Liked_  It, even? Yeah. Maybe that too.


	10. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You play a game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok uhh theres a really minor dark tower reference in here and if u catch it then props to you dude
> 
> also?? holy SHIT i cant believe ive gotten this far, real talk i never thought id almost be done with this fic (which is actually Really close to finishing so uhh yeah heads up) but im so proud of myself for getting this far!!  
> and this is actually the first fic that ive actually committed to?? and to think it initially started as an exercise in writing lmao

You looked gross, smelled gross, felt gross.

Your body ached, and the bites that had barely begun to scab stung with every movement. If you thought you felt like a mess, you looked even more so. Your shirt was still practically torn in half, the rip Pennywise had made in it the previous night exposing your chest almost completely. You shivered. At least the cistern wasn't as cold as it was a couple hours ago. You hadn't wanted to move since you woke up, but the painful rumble in your stomach forced you to sit up, leaning against the wall of the caravan. It was the first time you remembered feeling hungry, but as soon as the ever-present scent of the cistern hit your senses, your appetite quickly dissipated.

You stood up, legs threatening to give out and forcing you to lean against the splintery wood of the caravan's walls. You huffed. You were still groggy, and your body was  _definitely_  not in the mood to move around, but you couldn't stay here. You could tell Pennywise was out again, and you think you knew why. The moment you woke up you could feel a shift in the atmosphere, like charged electricity that made the hair on your arms want to stand on end.

They were here.

They probably arrived sometime last night. With the six of them together in one place, you wondered if the feeling that nagged at the back of your mind was the kind April would get. This feeling was new and foreign, and yet it was also familiar. It felt right. Whoever those people were, with all of them together you sensed that they carried a power that could - by some miracle - rival that of Pennywise's. It was just a feeling, though.

That's probably why It was gone. The chance that Pennywise had felt it too was pretty high. It was able to sense you alone, wasn't it? You were sure that It wouldn't kill them though, not yet (it always  _was_  the stalking type). Maybe that was just you hoping for the best, but you knew that it was definitely scoping them out. Somehow, you could understand why. Never in your life had you felt anything like this. Briefly, you wondered what April would've thought.

You sluggishly made your way to the caravan's door, shoving it open with minimum effort. As you made your way out, you paused mid-step. You had no idea when Pennywise was going to be back. Hell, it could appear directly behind you right now if it wanted. You turned around, quickly jogging back to grab the backpack you had forcibly discarded and pulling it over your shoulders. If there was a chance of you getting out, you didn't see the harm in taking said chance. Carefully stepping outside the caravan, you squinted at the harsh change in light. Afternoon sunlight filled the cistern, bathing it in a pale yellow glow. The room was notably less ominous in the daytime, but with the spiraling mountain of children's trinkets taking up the majority of the space, you weren't sure if it could be anything but ominous.

Cautiously, you walked around the tower, graywater sloshing beneath your feet with every other step. You could see the large pipe the balloon had led you to, almost calling out for you to run towards it. Instead, you calmly walked closer, peering down the length of the tunnel. It would be so easy to leave, rush through the sewers and climb out the nearest manhole or stormdrain. The idea was all too tempting - and you seriously considered it - that is, until the rolling creak of rusty latches echoed throughout the cistern, followed by a heavy slam that caused you to flinch.  _Shit_.

You begrudgingly turned around.

Behind you was the front wall of the caravan - or rather, the absence of it - as the wall was now as flat on the mound of junk as it could get. The compact theater still had that hellish glow, dimmed by the sunlight but still burning with as much ferocity as the figure that stood in its center. Pennywise was looking straight at you, hands on its hips and brow lowered like a disgruntled parent.

"...Back so soon?" The guilty, lopsided smile on your face was painfully forced. Pennywise didn't respond.

"Listen, I know how this looks, alright? I can expla-"

Before you could finish your likely incomprehensible thought, Pennywise jumped down in one graceful motion that seemed oddly out of character for it. It stood still once again, looking at you with an intensity that made a wave a dread pass over you like a cloud. Half of you expected It to start tapping its foot in frustration, the other half told you to run.

So you did.

You hadn't even made it to the first turn when you heard loud splashing come from behind you. You didn't need to look behind you to know what it was, especially after the clown's animalistic scream reverberated through the sewer. Your heartbeat thundered in your chest as you struggled to keep your footing in the waterlogged tunnel, breathing heavily with every step. You could hear Pennywise stampeding behind you, water sloshing with its heavy footfalls as the sound of its mocking laughter only grew closer. This was just another game for it.

"Don't go pleeeaase don't go I love you so so sssososo,"

If you didn't know any better you would've thought it was serious.

"I'll eat you whole I'LL EAT YOU WHOLE!"

 _Pretty sure that's not how it goes_ , but you didn't have the time to care.

"Sounding a little desperate there, huh?" you huffed. You only heard a howl in return.

Pennywise's footsteps devolved into something that made your flesh crawl. It was that damn skittering noise. How It managed to crawl on the slippery sewer walls you had no desire to find out. Your breath hitched when the noise began getting dangerously close. Impulsively, you dropped your backpack. It was only weighing you down anyway. You sped up, but only barely. Your upper half was still straining to keep looking forward, and you could already feel your legs start to waver.  _Not now_ , you thought.  _Just keep distracting it, buy them some time_.

You almost slipped on the slick floor of the pipe, gasping in surprise as you pushed yourself off against the slimy walls and continued running. You didn't think while you raced through the labyrinthine tunnels of Pennywise's domain. You hoped intuition alone pulled you in the right direction. If you were being honest, you forgot half of the pipes the balloon led you down. It didn't help that it was becoming less and less visible. It wasn't as bad as it had been last night, but you had quickly regretted not at least taking your phone out before ditching your backpack. At this point, intuition was all you had.

It felt like you had been running for an eternity. You were surprised Pennywise hadn't managed to catch up with you yet.  _That asshole's probably slowing itself down on purpose,_ you thought. In a way, you were glad that It was treating this as some sick game. At least  _someone_  was having fun.

You almost slipped again, sliding forward after coming to an abrupt halt at the end of a tunnel. By some miracle, you had ended up in that room by the well. The sound of a stream of sewage spilling into the basin at its center rang through your ears. It was all you could hear. You looked behind you with a quick nervousness. The skittering had stopped. Why did the skittering stop. You backed into the room. You had actually made it pretty far. It was almost as if Pennywise was  _trying_  to scare you out. But things were never that simple, you guessed.

You used the time It gave you to catch your breath. If your body hadn't hurt before, it did now. Your neck felt tense, and just swiveling it around caused you to hiss in pain. Your legs felt like they had run a mile, and you might have, given how long those tunnels seemed. Your chest heaved with every breath, and you allowed yourself to lean against a cold, damp wall. At this point you couldn't care less what you got on your clothes. It's not like it mattered anyway. What was left of your shirt had been turned into a grimy rag that clung to your skin like mud, and your pants were just as bad. You huffed out a sigh. Coming down the well had simultaneously went nothing and exactly how you expected it to go.

After what felt like a minute, you looked up. The door to that dug-out tunnel was right there. It seemed just a step away. You were only able to stagger about half a foot when you felt a strong hand clasp itself around your neck.

What would've been a shout was only able to come out as a pathetic whimper. Pennywise turned you to face it, and It was smiling. Its bloodshot eyes were a deep yellow-orange, one of them slowly drifting to the side. Drool pooled along the bottom of its swollen lip, slowly dripping to the floor in one long string. The clown's gloves scratched against the cuts that peppered your neck, and it took all your concentration not to wince. The clown let out a deep, muffled chuckle. Like a child expecting a reward, it spoke in that sweet voice mimicking innocence.

"I foound yooouu." it said with a giggle.

You struggled to keep yourself from passing out, hands desperately clawing at its wrists.

"Now, what did I say about playing games? That was unfair, dontcha think?"

"G-Gotta say," just speaking hurt. "It was fun while it lasted."

Pennywise's smile turned into a pout, and the hands around you tightened.

It was getting hard to think, hard to  _breathe_. You had long since stopped uselessly flailing your legs against it. And it didn't help that that imaginary timer in your head had begun ticking again. Whatever countdown it was coming to, the end felt close. Dangerously close. Whoever those people where, you hoped that whatever they were planning -  _if_  they had a plan - worked.

Looking into Pennywise's eyes, you could make out just a hint of something beyond the annoyance that bubbled to the surface. It was angry,  _so_  angry. It wanted to hurt those people,  _kill_  them. You had probably made it on that list of people it wanted to hurt, maybe not its highest priority but it didn't take a detective to tell that Pennywise was losing patience with its human alarm clock. But there was something beyond that anger, that hatred. You weren't sure if It had felt anything like it before, but if It did then it probably wouldn't have been acting so on edge. You had already figured out that the clown was extra cautious around people like you, but seeing It like this, you couldn't help but wonder what exactly the people you saw in your dream were like. The thought made you feel recklessly confident.

"Y-You're afraid," you managed to choke out.

With Its hands clasped around your neck, you struggled the get the words out. It didn't help that it was holding you at least a foot above the ground. You brought your trembling hands up to its face, sheepishly cupping its cheeks in your palms.

"I'm afraid too."

It wasn't a total lie. You were afraid of a lot of things at the moment, and you could only hope that Pennywise believed you. You rubbed your thumb along its dry, cracked skin. You didn't know why you never considered that Its facepaint might not actually be facepaint. Surprisingly, you could feel its hands lessen its grip on your throat as it slowly, hesitantly lowered you back to the ground.

 _Gotta keep talking_ , your brain shouted at you. You were unsure how long you were going to be able to do so, especially when It seemed to able to read your thoughts, but if it bought those people - bought  _you_  - just one extra minute of time, then maybe it was worth coming down here. You just had to be as convincing as inhumanly possible.

"As much as I want them to win, I-I know they can't do it." You managed to suppress all desire to gag as you inched your face closer to its own.

At this proximity, you could feel Pennywise's warm carrion-laced breath hit your face like a soft breeze. It took an embarrassing amount of self-control not to scrunch your face in disgust. You gently lowered your hands to grip its once-silky suit. The clown almost seemed hypnotized by what you were saying, despite the hands that hovered above your throat suddenly tensing when you softly tugged the clown closer you. If not for your current circumstances, you would've laughed. You weren't sure if it was just humoring you or actually registering a thing you said. You hoped it was the latter.

"How do they expect to kill something from another world?"

You gulped. You really didn't want to do this, and honestly you probably could've come up with a better distraction but you couldn't exactly back out now. You were so close to its face, you could see practically every crack in its greasepainted skin, the thin red lines that darted along its bloodshot eyes. It seemed so organic, so  _human_. Your eyes wandered to its painted mouth, the way its crooked and yellowed buckteeth lightly pressed into its bottom lip. It was almost cute. Almost.

"I know you'll figure out how to beat them. You almost did it before, right?"

You drew in a shaky breath. Tentatively, you brought your face ever closer to the clown's. Your lidded eyes drifting shut as you planted a soft kiss on the edge of its lips. You felt a shiver run down your spine when you felt its hands grip your neck again. You expected it to push you off or throw you on the floor, or even worse, bite you again. But it didn't.

When you pulled away, a string of drool clung to you both. You felt bile rise in the back of your throat, but instead of wiping it away you let fall to the floor. You opened your eyes, and both of Pennywise's were focused directly on you. The hint of a wry smile tugged at your lips.

"You can do it  _now_."

Pushing your luck, you tugged at its costume, pulling it even closer to your body. There was a subtle change in its expression, one that you were given no time to catch. Pennywise slammed you to the floor, the shallow pool of water you happened to land on splashing around you. You couldn't tell if you were shivering because of the cold or just fear. Maybe both. Probably both.

This wasn't the first time Pennywise was hunched over you, it had become sort of an awful trend. This  _was_  the first time where you couldn't find a hint of its usual malice. Of course, It always looked like it was about to pull some mean trick, but that was probably a side effect from its overall appearance. But behind that facade was something that almost looked like curiosity. Its mouth hung limp, tongue lapping up the saliva that pooled around its mouth, and its eyes no longer seemed as bloodshot as they did before. The unearthly yellow of its iris almost seemed to glow in the low light of the sewer.

Slowly, its hands left your neck and rested along either side of your head. Pennywise dove to the junction between your neck and your shoulder, deeply inhaling the scent of whatever emotion you had apparently been giving off. With a shiver, You slammed your eyes shut, lips drawing into a thin line as you resisted the urge to strain your neck away. Its strangely fluffy red hair tickled your skin, and the impulse to let out a giggle began to bubble to the surface. Against your better judgement, you grabbed onto its costume like an anchor.

When you felt its cold lips press into the clammy skin of your neck, your breath caught in your throat. You were so sure it was going to bite you again, to feed on your shine-laced flesh and blood like it did last night. But there was no teeth, at least, not to that extent.

You felt the clown drag its chipped buckteeth down your neck, scraping off the barely forming scabs from the previous night. You hissed, hands tightening into fists while pulling the clown's suit closer to you like a security blanket. The sharp, warm feeling at the base of your spine was had come back. Beads of tears formed at the edge of your eyes, and you tried to blink them away. Through your blurred vision, you could barely peek behind the clown. Your hands moved from the front of its costume, hesitantly placing them both on its back. You felt Pennywise pause, cold drool beginning to collect on your shoulder. You hated how the warmth between your legs began to spread like the breath that hit your skin. You tried to close your legs, but with Pennywise practically straddling you, it was almost impossible. Not surprisingly, you managed to get yourself trapped for a second time.

You prayed Pennywise didn't sense the nagging feeling you so desperately tried to ignore. But you got the feeling that It already knew. You drew in a shaky breath. Almost encouragingly, you pressed down on its back, running a hand down its spine. The intricate lacing of its costume was raised, almost resembling the spine of a feral animal. Which wasn't too far off in comparison. Your eyes had drifted shut, a weak attempt at dissociating yourself from your current position. Which didn't last long, seeing how Pennywise decided to open its mouth.

"You can't hide it from me," it wheezed.

"..What?"

Pennywise lifted itself from you, staring down at you with a hungry expression. It frightened you, everything about its position frightened you. And that probably only encouraged it more. Pennywise lowered its face, nose an inch away from yours.

"I can ssmeeell it on you." it brought a hand to your cheek, claws slowly tearing their way out from its glove. "You've aaalways been bad at hiding, haven't you?"

You strained your face away from the sharp claws that almost begged to touch you. "I'm, uh, not really sure what you're getting at."

Pennywise's other hand lay flat against your stomach, slowly, agonizingly trailing its way down, coming to a stop right above the dip of your pelvis. You shivered. The mere thought of Pennywise having an idea of anything regarding  _that_  repulsed you. But it shouldn't have come to much of a surprise, it had been on this planet for longer than you have - longer than anyone. Nervously, you brought one hand down, carefully wrapping it around its wrist. You knew you had no chance to overpower it, but there was a chance you could at least guide it.

"Whatever you're gonna do," your nails dug into the silky fabric around its wrist. "Try not to kill me."

Although your voice had a palpable sardonic-ness to it, you really did mean it. You knew It said that it would never, but something about today felt like you couldn't chance  _not_  stating some ground rules. But then again, Pennywise was never really one for rules in the first place.

The clown smiled.

You heard the pop and stretch of its true mouth tearing through its humanoid mask, and you shut your eyes. You could just imagine the dozens of teeth, sticking up from its gums like shards of glass, sink themselves into your soft skin. They didn't though.

Instead, its teeth raked themselves against the skin of your shoulder that hadn't been marked during its last feeding attempt. And following the teeth's trail like some sort of slug was its cold tongue. It dragged itself up your neck, up your face. You felt another wave of bile rise in the back of your throat, but what was comparatively worse was the uncomfortably familiar warmth that spread from your legs to your stomach like a swarm of butterflies. Or wasps.

You hated that Pennywise had most likely sensed this, seeing as it shoved one of its legs between your own. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream that had gradually begun to rise. All that came out was a whine.

The hand that had been gripping its back moved to the back of its head. You pressed down, pushing the clown's face closer to yours. The fluffy red hair that tickled your hand was surprisingly soft, you could almost call it adorable if it didn't belong to the intergalactic murderer that was currently frenching your face.

That thought almost instantly brought you back to the present, especially given how close Pennywise's tongue had gotten to your own mouth. You could feel its teeth scrape against your lips, and you weren't sure if it had been intentional or not but you could swear you felt its knee press further into the space between your legs.

"Y-You wouldn't."

"Oh, you know how tasty you are, don't you Y/N?" Pennywise lowered itself back to the space between your neck and your shoulder.

"My bright bright bright little star." it said with an innocuous giggle. As it dragged its tongue across the bare skin that hadn't yet met its teeth, you let out a soft whimper.

"Yeah, I-I think you've made that kind of obvious."

Pennywise laughed, the vibration of the deep chuckle hitting your skin in a warm wave of breath. A hot flush spread across your face, you really hated when it did that. Involuntarily, your legs closed around the one between them. The sudden pressure made you writhe against it, and you hated how you could tell that Pennywise was enjoying this. Especially after it finally bit into your shoulder. It wasn't hard, but still you winced, taking in a sharp breath when you felt it's tongue run over the fresh bite.

As blood pooled around its mouth, you could feel Pennywise move, pressing deeper against the cuts and simultaneously grinding its knee against your crotch. A part of you wondered if it was doing it on purpose, but you were starting to not care that much. The warmth that had formed between your legs had gotten near unbearable, and feeling that pressure at least gave you some relief. You tightened your legs around its own and gripped onto its costume. This time, you let yourself moan. It was still just as embarrassing, even more so when you felt the ghost of Pennywise's smile form on your flesh. You tried to ignore the sound of it gulping down your blood like water. Ignoring it was beginning to be difficult when Pennywise started giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Do that again."

"Huh?"

Pennywise brought a hand to your face, fingers probing in and around your mouth. The thought of biting them to suppress the whine building in your throat was tempting. Suddenly, you realized what it had meant.

God it was so weird.

You let out a laugh that sounded more like a huff than anything. "At least  _you're_  enjoying yourself."

Suddenly, you felt the grinding between your legs come to a stop, and the fingers in your mouth retreated. For some unexplainable reason you felt disappointed. Disappointed that the yearning warmth was still there. Disappointed that Pennywise pulled itself away from you by just an inch or two.

"By all means, take your time." you wanted to cringe at how desperate you sounded. Maybe even just slightly selfish. Could that be considered selfish? You hoped not.

Pennywise's face hovered above yours, your still-warm blood dripping down from its lips and onto your mouth. You wanted to gag. Pennywise lowered itself further.

"What do you want."

"Wh-" You hoped it didn't mean what you thought it meant. "What are you-"

Before you could finish your thought, Pennywise's face quickly jumped to your neck. Taking a deep sniff, its expression changed. You felt your stomach drop.

"Still a liiiiaar." Its voice was that high-pitched mocking, voice that it used all the time, but somehow it sounded much more serious. Maybe you had spoken too soon.

"Pennywise, listen, I was just-"

The clown roughly grabbed you by what remained of your shirt and tugged you upward, eliciting a muffled yelp from you. Pennywise screamed in your face, teeth jutting forward like a goblin shark's. It was a feral, pained scream, and the noise rang in your ears. Brows furrowing, you screamed back at It.

You were still holding onto its costume as if your life depended on it, one hand dragging down the delicate ruff that adorned its neck as far as it could go. Teeth bared like two cats fighting, you pulled yourself away, and a rip echoed through the room. You had somehow managed to get out of its grasp - at the cost of your shirt, which was now in the clown's claws in a tattered bundle. You had likewise managed to take a piece of It with you. In your hands you held a scrap of the collar, and looking up at the clown you saw just how much you had pulled.

Pennywise stood before you, hunched over and heaving like a dog, drool dripping from its maw like a waterfall. And its costume was torn. Not terribly, but the ruff limply hung from its neck, and the thinner part of the costume covering its chest had gone with it. Not much had been revealed, but from what had been, you couldn't tear your eyes away. What seemed to be skin had gradually changed into a dark, chitinous shell like that of a beetle. Or a spider. And peeking from the rest of its suit was a faint orange glow blocked only by whatever its "skin" was. And you thought It had trouble committing to its humanoid form already. Your gaze was pulled upward to its own. You had never seen It so angry.

You let the pieces of its costume fall to the pool of graywater below you, but before you could even think of running through some tunnel Pennywise ran at you, arms outstretched. You had only made it a step or two before slipping on a puddle and falling back to the floor.

Pennywise was on you in an instant. You had attempted to crawl away but before you could put a sliver of distance between it, you felt something puncture the fabric of your jeans, pulling you backward. You didn't want to look, but your eyes had been pulled toward It like a magnet. A scream was caught in your throat. What looked like the arm of a mantis was stuck to your pant leg, tugging you closer to the clown. Your jaw was limp in horror, but to your relief the arm melted back into the silk suited arm of a clown. But not after it had you back in its chokehold.

"You know," It brought you close to its face, teeth still sharp but not so much so that they protruded from its face like knives. "I was hoping to spend more time with theemm. They seemed veeerry happy to see meee." Its grip on your throat tightened. "It was sso NICE of them to visit, dontcha think, Y/N?"

"Wh-Who are they? At least -" You suddenly felt very tired. "At least tell me that."

There was a pause, an odd silence that filled the sewer. "Losers. Nothing more."

With your vision fading, you decided it best not to probe further. It's not like it mattered. You were starting to get the feeling you weren't ever going to meet them anyway. Not in person, at least.

You didn't struggle, not this time. Your hands weren't even gripping its wrists, if gently resting on them had counted as such. Maybe it was the bloodloss, you  _were_  still leaking from the fresh bite that Pennywise had been so eager to give you. You could still see that rage in Its eyes, the eyes of a predator. But unlike an unhinged animal, there was something more. Hurt? Betrayal? Maybe it was just you projecting. It had to be.

But what else could have explained the clown dropping you to the floor of the sewer, leaving you in a gasping, shivering heap. It was just the bloodloss, just you projecting onto this creature. Something like It couldn't feel, not really. Right? Something like It wouldn't hoist you up like a drunk friend passed out at a bar from where you had landed in a fetal position, carrying you down a tunnel that you couldn't quite see anymore. It was just some messed up form of hypnagogia. It had to be.

 

You didn't have the luxury of waking up on your own in the cistern.

Everything had felt like a blur, and you were so  _so_  tired. You felt as though if you made an attempt to speak all that would come out was some slurred rambles. But that wasn't what concerned you. What caused you to thrash and flail until you were just about ready to hurt yourself in the process was the fact that you had woken up to being cradled in Pennywise's arms.

The clown's costume had been miraculously repaired, and it no longer had that wild, hateful look. At least, visibly speaking. Still, you were pretty sure you had been thrusting your fists against its hard chest, mumbling various expletives in a groggy speech the entire time. It deserved it.

Pennywise's hold on you tightened, bringing your body closer to its own as it rocked you back and forth with its body on the floor of the cistern. Its gloved hands - no traces of any talons or insectoid appendages - held your cheeks with a foreign gentleness. Its hands were too stiff, too hesitant. They seemed to hover above your face as though it didn't know what to do with itself, or you for that matter. They still managed to find a way to cup your face in its palms. You didn't have the strength to resist.

"You were supposed to sssee for me."

You let out an exasperated breath that could've passed for a laugh. "Eldritch voyeurism was never really my thing I guess."

"It will be."

Before you could raise a question, Pennywise held you out like one would do to a toddler barely learning to walk. Your head lolled to the side, this was the most relaxed you ever felt near It. You focused your sight enough so that you were looking directly into its own eyes. There was nothing there that betrayed any form of emotion, and that scared you for some reason. Still, you gathered the strength to speak.

"Look, I get it." You were unsure if you were imagining it, but Pennywise seemed to listen.

"You probably wouldn't have stopped giving me shit about my shine or whatever until I died." It almost seemed interested, even.

"That's if you didn't get me first, am I right?" You allowed yourself another laugh. "But no, really. I get it. All this cosmic bullshit? That's just how it goes, right? I get hurt, I try to hold on, I get thrown off. That's just how it is."

You let your head roll back, eyes staring up at the stars that peeked beyond the grating of the cistern's ceiling.

"At least it meant something, somewhere."

Pennywise shifted your position, hands cupping either side of your face in its gloved palms. That was one quirk about It that never bothered you as much.

"And can I just say something?"

Pennywise looked at you as if you hadn't already been rambling.

"Trying to be my friend as a kid? You really need to work on your recruitment tactic."

Almost as if it sensed you were done, Pennywise held you still in front of it. There was an odd expression on its face, one that you hadn't seen before. It was something like regret, but only if someone didn't know what regret was and subsequently didn't know how to properly express it. Suddenly, its face changed. Literally, physically changed.

The clown's eyes rolled to the back of its head, mouth expanding like some sea creature, jaw completely unhinging as though there was no jaw there to begin with. The mask it wore as a face began to peel away like the lid of a can, the sheet of flesh that was once its face revealing a seemingly infinite tunnel of teeth. And somewhere in the back of its throat was a warm, orange glow not unlike the one you saw in its chest. The glow was somehow getting brighter.

You wanted to look away.

Everything in you screamed to look away, to shield your eyes as if Medusa herself stood before you. But you couldn't move, couldn't breathe. And your eyes could only move so far to the side. You didn't feel afraid, but the overwhelming need to escape made your heart race like the wind of a tornado. But like a magnet, you could feel your gaze being pulled to Pennywise's former face. The lights at the edge of your eyes wanted you to see them so much.

So you did.

It wasn't like you had any say in the matter. It was like an invisible force had turned your eyes towards it. You couldn't quite make out what you were seeing, like you were looking through frosted glass underwater. The lights were a bright orange, like Pennywise had managed to fit a miniature sun in its throat. It was beautiful.

Slowly, you felt yourself become calm. Inhumanely calm. But it wasn't the sort that you felt around the Turtle. This was like the serenity in the air before a hurricane hit, only the feeling went on forever. And beyond that placid feeling, you felt yourself drift.

 _Physically_  drift. Like you were letting go of everything you had ever known. No, like you were  _floating_  away from everything you had known. You never felt anything like this. And it felt like nothing, like you had become nothing. Something in the back of your mind told you that it felt like dying.

Somehow, a disembodied voice made its way to your ears.

It sounded somewhat like someone singing twinkle, twinkle little star. And as that too drifted away into the void, you heard something else. Something faint. Was it bells? No. Pennywise's bells didn't sound like that. Who brought chimes here? Where there chimes in the cistern?

It was the last thing you heard before everything around you went away.

 

**May 2016**

Unbeknownst to you, (or maybe a part of you did know, the part that stayed on this world with your physical self) six losers - six  _adults_  had entered the sewers to beat the devil for the last time.


	11. The Apotheosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You float.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh there's a big loud dark tower reference in this chapter and im not sorry  
> also we're really close to the end and no spoilers for this one but i hope you like a small dose of lovecraftian surrealism

It was dark wherever you were.

It was a different type of dark, instead of there being an absence of light this felt like the absence of everything. It was like you had never been in the cistern at all, even though you were well aware that you - a part of you at least - had been left behind. It felt weird, for lack of a better term. But most of all it was cold. This cold ran through your bones like it was becoming a part of you. It felt a lot like what you imagined being dead would feel like. Hurtling indefinitely through purgatory at lightspeed was a frightening thought, but you weren't scared. All this was so familiar that it felt as natural as falling asleep. Which you guess was a lot like dying.

Like in your dreams, you were never one to participate. You were always the spectator, just passing by specs of cosmic dust like a car to a sign on the road. You didn't know where It had sent you, but you knew you had been here before. This place looked so much like your night terrors, like Pennywise's dreams. Only this wasn't a dream. This was real.

This was the void. It had to be.

And just as always, you were alone. Or that's what it looked like. It was really hard to see in the void, and nothing was ever clear. One thing you were sure of at the moment was that you had been floating through this seemingly endless abyss for what felt like an age. You squinted. Could you even squint here? It didn't matter. For a second you had thought you saw something glimmering in the distance, like blinking stars in a light-polluted city. Seeing something in the void wasn't  _entirely_  out of the question. You had met the Turtle here, after all.

Almost immediately after that thought, the twinkling glimmer on the not-horizon touched you. You shuddered, screaming but with no sound ever leaving your lips. Your arms flailed around your voidself, uselessly attempting to swat away whatever it was that came into contact with you. It was the first time you had thought to actually look at yourself, and it looked like you. But at the same time, not at all like you. It was like you swallowed a star and the light was fighting to break free from beneath your skin. Your shine must have been the reflective glimmer against the thing that bumped into you.

It had been more like a graze than anything, as if the thing within the void was as unsure of your presence as you were with its own. Now it  _really_  was beginning to feel like one of your night terrors. You had always preferred the ones where you were alone, despite the crushing feeling of desolation that always accompanied you when you woke up. The ones where  _things_  grabbed you and poked you and inspected your very being like a surgeon were the ones you dreaded. There were times when you swore you woke up with bruises that dotted your skin like kisses along the spaces where those things touched you. If you could shiver you would have.

You continued to float at an intangible pace when you suddenly found yourself hitting something. Wait. You  _hit_  something.

Immediately you began to thrash against the writhing mass that you had the misfortune of encountering. You tried desperately to see what it was but within the all-consuming darkness that suddenly enveloped you it was impossible. Of all places in the infinite abyss you just so happened to drift through a drowning cluster of bioluminescent voidcreatures. But like a wave, whatever had bumped into you had passed as quickly as it came. You hadn't gotten a chance to see what it was, but looking as far ahead as you could you got a vague idea of what it most likely was.

Whoever -  _what_ ever - it was that Pennywise would occasionally dream about, you had just come across a shoal of them. They were huge and infinite, just like It and the Turtle, but there were thousands of them. Each of them were drifting together in chaotic, serried clusters, spreading into every direction and regrouping at random. You had no idea where they could possibly be going, or if they were going anywhere at all. But as long as they ignored you, you could care less what they were doing.

Every now and then you would feel the shadowy silhouette of a limb brush past you like someone in a crowded room, almost taking hold of your not-body but not quite. You didn't know a place this infinite could feel so claustrophobic.

 

You had no idea how long you had been floating through the abyss -  _not abyss, prison_ , you thought. Prison was a loose term. After what felt like a good while you stopped minding your whole situation. It could be worse. You could actually be dead.  _When Pennywise said it wouldn't kill me I guess it wasn't entirely wrong_ , you thought. You weren't sure how it was even possible to think here, wherever you were.

It was, however, getting a bit boring.

Those creatures you encountered at some earlier time hadn't come around again, and you were back to being alone. Your voidself sighed.

At some point, you weren't sure when, you felt a thinness. There wasn't any better way to describe it other than feeling like a shroud had been draped across your entire being. It was like you were just beneath the surface of a body of water. Like you could reach and pop out from the other side. But you didn't. The thought of ending up anywhere other than the cistern  _did_  scare you.

You did allow yourself to take a peek. Might as well, right? There was nothing better to do.

For a moment as brief as blinking, you're allowed a glance beyond that veil, and you're met with a barrage of images that flutter through your not-mind like a swarm of butterflies. Roses - a never-ending field of the most beautiful roses you had ever seen, a beam, and at the end of it all was a dark, lonely tower. It looked like something out of a fairy tale. Before you could reenter your void completely, a sudden flash of tumultuous red struck your sight like a slap in the face, and you're back in the infinite darkness. You had no idea what all that was about, but you thought it was best to leave it be.

 

You had drifted through the not-space for another bout of time that felt long, but you had no way of knowing how long exactly. Now it was getting really boring. No more of those creatures showed up. Or maybe they did, somewhere in the imperceptible distance. You couldn't tell.

Just when you were beginning to think that maybe there was nothing else in this abyss you felt another thinness. You reached out with your voidself, spectral fingertips brushing along the surface of the veil but making sure not to breach through the other side. Your being jolted. There was something on the other side. You couldn't see anything through the thinness, not yet, but you felt something beyond the encroaching darkness that surrounded your supposedly shared eternity. You peeked through the veil. You felt it peek back.

 _What was that one saying? 'He who fights monsters should watch the fuck out or else he becomes one, and if you look long enough into the abyss the abyss stares back' or whatever?_  You think that's how it goes.

You gazed as far as you could.

The Other Presence stayed silent and a fair enough distance away. It was just watching you, even though you couldn't really see the thing itself. It was more like something you felt rather than witnessed with your not-eyes. You got the feeling that it was something unlike the other creatures you encountered in this space. Something beyond that of Pennywise, or even the Turtle. Your not-body hummed, trying to find anything else within the thinness. The Other Presence continued observing, but this time you felt it shift itself ever so slightly.

 _It wasn't moving itself_ , you thought.  _It was moving the veil._

And like a curtain in a theater the thinness spread, and your frosted glass-like vision was filled with images.

This time what you see is much more familiar. You see the cistern, and at the top of Pennywise's hoard is you, gently floating atop the tower like the star on a Christmas tree. Only you're not alone. There were two other people - adults - floating below you. One of them was a beautiful woman with auburn hair, the other a rather scary-looking man that had unfortunately been half-eaten. The next scene fills you with some emotion, hope maybe? You want to say it's something like that. You see the stars from your dream, each of them weary adults that seemed to hold a strength that you didn't see in the average person. You didn't know exactly what they had been through, but you had a vague idea. You try to stay within the thinness' range, desperately holding on to the visions it was giving you.

The last thing you could glimpse was a fight. It was a terrible, personal fight. You felt the losses on both sides - Pennywise screeching in horror and anger and pain (it hurt, so  _so_  much, it wanted it to stop it wanted  _them_  to stop), old friends clinging to each other at the sight of one of their own succumbing to the fight. It was hard to watch, you almost didn't want to, but it was a necessary tragedy. Although you hadn't known any of them, that didn't stop your phantasmal self from feeling some type of heartache. In the end, you felt them win, you felt them leave.

And you felt It die.

Before you could see the aftermath of the fight, something shut you out from the thinness. Shoved you out? It was so sudden you hadn't gotten the chance to process anything. A part of you was relieved. You weren't sure if you wanted to see Pennywise after whatever the fuck had just happened. The feeling of that Other Presence was gone, and you drifted once more.

You hadn't expected to feel nothing, but at the same time you were glad in a way. You weren't even sure a thing like It could die, and a part of you wondered if It ever could. Still, you couldn't help but feel a  _little_  bad for It. It was a creature - an alien, and really all it had ever wanted was to live and eat and sleep. All it called for was a couple of human sacrifices every 27 years, nothing major. Sure Its moral values were skewed ( _very_  skewed), but you guess that after having seen the rise of humanity something like It was bound to develop some imitation of a personality, no matter how asshole-like that personality was. In the end It was just a monster. Nothing more, nothing less.

 

You had been floating for a shorter time than the last.

You had somehow managed to become entangled in another trap of eldritch limbs that poked and prodded your voidself like curious monkeys. You had almost missed them, but when it didn't stop after what felt like a long time you began to grow nervous. Or as nervous as you could get here.

It was suffocating, like you were drowning in a sea of bodies vastly larger than yourself. Just when you thought you were really,  _truly_  trapped in this prison of a void, you saw another light. This wasn't the glimmer of your own shine against the glossy skin of a voidcreature, or the star-like luminescence of the "losers" as Pennywise had called them. It was like a small sun, hurtling through the void's denizens at a speed much faster than you had previously been going. You had no time to move when you felt the sun crash into you.

It was surprisingly solid, but at the same time just as not there as you were. At this distance, you saw that it was nothing like a sun. It was a cluster of yellow-orange lights, barely contained within its own writhing form. The tendrils lapping at your voidself felt like a thousand tiny spiders crawling along your skin. It almost tickled. The volatile coils of light held onto you like an anchor in this abyss. As the lights intertwined with your own cold, dim light, you felt it hum. As the two of you danced around each other through the void, you realized what - who - it was.

_How do you like it out here, little star? Enjoying your own personal tour of my home sweet home? Don't you love it? Did you enjoy meeting my friends? Aren't they just lovely?_

Your voidself hummed in response.  _Just when I thought I had gotten rid of you._

A noxious, shrieking laughter echoed throughout your being. And to think you were starting to miss It.

It was Pennywise, in Its most primitive form, and suddenly you felt a barrage of emotions. Confusion, anger, and somewhere in that mix was remorse. Or maybe it was pity. When it came to Pennywise you could never really tell the difference between the two. Still, you let Its writhing mass of lights curl around your small form infinitely.

_I won't be gone forever, little star. How can I be? Now that you're here with me, now that you can really see me, we're just like two peas in a pod for the rest of forever! Isn't that great, little star? Isn't that just lovely?_

_You're a dick, you know that right?_

_Oh, be a little grateful, wouldn't you?  I could've had you y'know. I could've eaten you whole and then you'd_ really _be with me. Best friends 'til the end, right little star?_

_Stop calling me that._

_Gotta say, I_ did _think of killing you. It was a thought I couldn't not think. Sometimes I thought it my hardest._

 _Listen, if we're gonna be in this place together can you at least_ try _not to make it weird?_

_Aw, come on now Y/N. It's not like I would've actually hhuurt you._

_Liar._

_Still rude as ever, aren'tcha Y/N?_

_So? You're awful! Wrong and awful! All those people, back in_ my _home, you killed them..you_ ate _them!_

_And is that so wrong?_

The two of you stopped talking for a long time, and in that time you just drifted through the void, tangled in each other's essences. After a stretch of silence, It's voice rang through you.

_Did you mourn me, Y/N?_

_What?_

_Did you cry for me? That's what people do, yes?_

_Yeah, when someone's dead._

_So did you? Did you grieve for me like you do with those other small things on your home?_

_You didn't die, you're right here._

_But would you?_

_...No._

Hearing Its voice here was so strange, yet oddly comforting. Its voice sounded like it was layered over another, true voice. One that could only speak in syllables so foreign to human ears that it sounded like nothing but meaningless gibberish. It was just a tiny bit distracting. As your body became engulfed by the slowly encroaching living lights, you didn't feel any heat. In fact it felt like being wrapped in a blanket, if said blanket was made of pure energy. It felt like sleeping within the eye of a storm, a storm that could consume every bit of you and every feeling you had felt and would feel. And as you stared directly into the brightness of Its core, you still couldn't bring yourself to feel afraid. They're so horrible and strange you can't look away.

 _Deadlights_ , Its implacable voice echoed through the eternity _They're called the deadlights_.

 _They're beautiful_ , you think, not caring if It could hear you or not. Not like It would care, It was always a bit of a narcissist. The deadlights were probably the one thing about Pennywise that you would ever admit to calling beautiful. Though, you guessed It wasn't really Pennywise anymore. Not like this.

As you continued to stare at It, the cold light that came from your own body twisted and curled along with its tendrils. It was calming. And for the briefest of moments, you understood It.  _Really_  understood It. And somewhere within that moment of understanding, you almost  _loved_  it. Almost.

 _Did you know?_  you speak into the void.  _About whatever that-that Other was? Did you know?_

The deadlights pulled away so slightly that you barely even noticed. Something about It felt hesitant, afraid even. It didn't say anything, but you could guess what It was trying to tell you.

_You didn't know?_

Before you could get a reaction, you felt something. A tug through the fabric of the universe. You were leaving the void. You felt the fear within the deadlights increase ever so slightly.

_Wwait wait don't go don't go please don't go don't leave don't leave me_

_I-I'm sorry I can't - I don't know how to-_

_Stay with me stay with me I'm afraid I don't understand being afraid I don't want to feel it I don't like it_

Seeing It like this hurt, but in some strange way it felt almost cathartic. The tug increased, and you could feel yourself being forcibly pulled away from It. Like a candle's flame, you felt your connection to It waning. The light coming from your voidself untangling from Its sun-like appendages. You didn't want to leave, not now. You hadn't been alone with those voidcreatures anymore. Though, you admitted to yourself that that was a bit hypocritical, seeing how It was likely a voidcreature as well. But at least you  _knew_  It. Some small part of you reached out to It, but you didn't feel It reach back.

And as if all that time you had spent in the abyss took place within the snap of a finger, you were back on Earth, back in the cistern, back in your body.

 

You still felt paralyzed, like your entire body was being compressed by the air around it, and you weren't even entirely conscious. As you gently floated down from your space atop the tower, a hundred questions raced through your rapidly awakening mind.  _How long had it been? Days? Weeks? Months? How will I get out once I'm awake? Will I even wake up?_  But the most important question hung silent in the back of your mind.  _Was It dead? Was It_ really _dead?_  A part of you hoped it was. A small, strange part of you hoped it wasn't.

As your body descended from the tower, you felt your cheek brush against the cold, damp floor of the cistern. After a moment of silence - the deafening, empty silence - you felt your full consciousness bubble up to the surface of your brain.

You woke up.


	12. The Renascence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take a walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof,, sorry for updating a little late i ended up catching a cold this past weekend (plus christmas happened so i didn't have time to write during that time) but uhh here it is the second to last chapter !! as always im so happy a lot of you enjoyed the story so far so i hope yall like this short chapter !! the next one is definitely gonna be the last one, and hopefully i'll finish it before the year's over lmao  
> (also, there's a pretty minor dreamcatcher reference somewhere in here)

You are awake.

_Breathe. Remember to breathe._

The bottom of the cistern was cold and damp, and your equally cold and damp body was wracked with erratic shivers. You were heaving in breaths, almost as if you had been holding it for a year and a day. You sat upright, trying to dry yourself from the puddle you had landed on. Why did the cistern seem more flooded than usual?

_Just breathe._

You curled in on yourself, which you quickly found out was a poor attempt to alleviate yourself from the spasms when you realized that you had no shirt on. Faster than turning on a light bulb, the half-faded memory of what happened before your..experience hit you like a wall. Instinctively, you looked at your shoulder. A chill different from the ones the cistern had given you ran down the length of your body. The bites that had once peppered your skin in scabbed, uneven rows were now thin, light scars. How long you had been gone, you didn't know. A part of you didn't want to know.

You were unsure how long you just sat there on the wet concrete, rocking yourself back and forth until the shivering subsided, but you didn't care. Your senses were slowly coming back to you in waves, each adding to your increasingly growing headache. Though dim, the room was bright -  _too_  bright - and the dead air that hung around you didn't help your ringing ears. Being tangible again was too much.

With a tired groan, you slowly lifted yourself from the ground, only to crumple back on your knees with a splash. Hesitantly, you got up again, scrambling to the side of the hoard before your knees could buckle out from under you again. Your fists curled around the first thing they could touch, and to your surprise, they had found a blanket.

It was small and incredibly filthy, with years of grime and ordure encrusted on its surface. But it could work. Carefully, you pulled it from the hoard, moving loose trinkets from the bottom of the pile to where the blanket had once sat. You were still cold when you wrapped it around your shivering body - it was so stiff with age that you could barely get it to wrap itself around you - but still you carried it like it was the cape of a superhero, or at least a scared child would when walking into their kitchen at night.

You walked around the hoard to the tunnel that you hoped was still open, stumbling over your own feet as they sloshed through the graywater that lapped at your ankles. To your relief, the tunnel's latch was still swung open like the mouth of a cave. As you took one step in the waterlogged pipe, you looked back. A handful of what looked like afternoon sun rays tried their best to gleam across the surface of the muddy water that filled the cistern. Had it rained while you were floating? That must've been why there was so much water. Derry's always had a penchant for flooding when it rains.

Something pulled your eyes to the side of the wide room. You couldn't quite see it, and you didn't really want to anyway, but half-obscured by the crooked tower of trophies was the bloated and decaying body of the half-eaten man you saw in the Other Place. He was in worse condition than before, the bones of his face being all that was visible to you, with the dregs of his clothing and what was probably skin hanging on like an afterthought. You wretched, bile wanting to form but not quite making it. Ironically, you had just realized how hungry you were.

You had been walking through the sewer tunnels for about ten minutes when you wondered what happened to that other person you saw while in the Other Place. She seemed to be in much better condition than that other guy. She almost seemed alive. But thinking back on it, you had only seen one body. Maybe she washed out with the flood. Maybe she miraculously made it out. You didn't think about it for too long.

You had forgotten how dark the sewers could get, if you walked down them far enough that is. This time you had no red balloon to guide you. You almost missed the thing, but that was behind you now. What was your priority was getting the fuck out of the sewers. That's if your vision would allow you to. The sting behind your eyes  _did_  lessen when you left the slightly better-lit room of the cistern, though. Compared to the Other Place, you didn't really mind this soft, earthly dark. As you trudged through the slowly increasing graywater that had now pushed past your ankles, almost reaching your mid-calf, you ran a hand along the damp walls of the sewer, the other tightly clutching the dirty blanket around you. It felt good to touch something again, even if that touch was pretty revolting. As you walked through the quiet tunnels, you hummed an old, familiar lullaby.

You weren't sure how long you had been walking, but your tired legs had told you it had been a while. You were almost thinking of sitting in the freezing water below you when you felt one of your feet brush past something at the bottom of the pipe. After your initial shock, something in the back of your mind pushed you to pick it up from the water. You had no idea what it could possibly be, and you didn't really want to know but still your hands sloshed through the water. With a scrunched nose, you pulled the unrecognizable shape from the water. You stifled a gasp.

It was your backpack, falling apart and totally waterlogged. The brand's patch on the front was peeling off, and one of the straps had detached. Still, it was undeniably the one you had brought with you. Carefully, you unzipped the bag.

You felt a wave of strange relief wash over you when you found its contents still there. You hadn't brought much, just your phone, car keys, and Pennywise's -  _Its_  - music box. You doubted it would still work after being abandoned in the muddy sewage for who knows how long, but a small part of you felt a sliver of ease creep into your mind upon seeing the box again. You wanted to open it just one more time, wanted to hear that same calliope tune that followed you from childhood into adulthood. Instead, you grabbed your phone and futilely tried to turn it on. You didn't really expect it to, but when only a glossy black screen greeted you, you sighed. You clutched the backpack with you for the rest of the way.

It hadn't been much longer when the sewers began to fill with a dim light again. It wasn't much, as you still had to squint in order to make out the vaguest of shapes, but as your hand ran along the side of the tunnel's wall you felt a dip. Carefully, you explored the dip in the wall, cautiously running your hand along the side of the grimy tunnel until you felt your fingertips brush against chipping, rusty metal.

Shrugging the one good backpack strap over your shoulder, you ran both hands over the rungs that lined the wall. It felt significantly higher than the rest of the tunnels. You looked up. It was almost impossible to tell what was up there, but you could see the ambiguous shape of a circle. It was a manhole.

Quickly, you began climbing the rungs, carefully making sure not to slip on your still-dripping feet. You hadn't realized how cold the water was until you were about a foot above the bottom of the sewer. You had begun to shiver again, but still you kept climbing. The outside was so close. You still had almost two dozen more rungs to go but the thought of finally leaving what was once  _Its_  domain pushed you further. Soon enough, you had reached the top of the ladder, and with all the strength you had left, you pushed the manhole cover to the side of the road.

 

You knew they weren't exactly the lightest objects, but you were surprised at how heavy they really were. Still, you had been able to slowly shove it aside and pull yourself free from the sewers.

You collapsed on the warm, hard ground.

You had probably just laid there on your back, just breathing and staring up at the blue sky, for a good ten minutes. It was like you were seeing daylight for the first time, and a single thin tear escaped the corner of your eye. You really missed being corporeal. You never thought you could feel so glad to feel daylight on your skin. It was odd to feel something other than cold for once, but the feeling was welcome.

You had made it and It did not. All thanks to a group of people you would never know. You didn't want to think about what happened in the cistern, about It and the Other Place. Maybe someday, but not right now. Right now you were real, everything around you was real.

 _And was that Other Place not real?_  you thought. Just the faint thought of it felt like a distant dream that would fade from your memory as the day went on. But you had a feeling the memory of that place wasn't going to fade any time soon.

Slowly, you rose to your feet once more. You had walked about a block from where you emerged when you actually bothered to take in your surroundings.

You were somewhere in downtown Derry, but downtown Derry looked very different. Some of the trees that dotted the sidewalks were missing, like they had been uprooted by something. Others were cracked, missing their entire top halves. It sent a chill down your spine. As you continued down the sidewalk, subconsciously taking the same route you always did every morning on your way to therapy, you stopped dead in your tracks. The small cul de sac where your therapist's building usually sat had been decimated. Practically every building there had been caved in, each of the glass windows broken and empty. The flimsy construction tarps that tried to shield the damage flapped aimlessly in the breeze. Whatever repairs that the city had attempted really didn't make much of a difference. It looked awful.

Without a word, you carried on.

 _It could just be a problem with the foundation_ , you thought.  _It happens_.

The further you walked through Derry the more desolate everything looked. For a bright, spring afternoon, there was nothing but the sound of crickets and birds in the air. Derry was a small town, but never in your life have you seen it this empty before. It was a little frightening.

You came across more buildings with odd damages to them, windows broken in, signs completely missing, and - what should've been telling from the star - water damage. It was like a hurricane tore through the town and you had been given the scraps of what was left. You had lived through some nasty floods, but this felt different. Beyond all rational thought, this felt like it had a reason.

The standpipe was missing. That had been your first thought as you neared the park. Passing by the shattered remains of a convenience store's window, you caught a glimpse of your reflection. You were dirty beyond belief, hair caked in dried graywater. Your clothes were another story entirely. If a stranger were to see you, you wouldn't have blamed them if they thought you were an overgrown rat or at least someone that had seen Mad Max one too many times. Looking at yourself,  _really_  looking, left you with a strange feeling. You continued walking.

You had ended up wandering through the deserted park. The place was a mess. Some trees were gone, uprooted by whatever had passed through Derry while you floated, and the fountain in the center of the park had toppled over. It was a dismal sight, especially with the shadow of the standpipe nonexistent. But as you drew closer, you saw something in place of it. It was small and fairly simple, almost as if it were unfinished, but its presence sent another wave of chills down your spine. You clutched the blanket tighter around yourself.

It was a memorial. On the metal plaque on the memorial's face read:

_To those lost in the storm_

_May 31, 2016_

_And to the children, all the children_

_Love from Bill, Ben, Bev, Eddie, Richie, Stan, Mike_

_The Losers’ Club_

You had no idea who those people were.  _Maybe one, Mike_ , you thought. It could've been an entirely different Mike, but something told you that it had to be those people you saw while in the Other Place.

_Losers. Nothing more._

You tensed at the sound of Its voice in your mind. You knew it was just a memory, but thinking about It felt wrong, like it was something you just shouldn't do anymore. But how could you not? After everything that had happened, how could you not think about It?

You walked away once again. You didn't make it far until you collapsed in the middle of the road.

 

You woke to painfully bright lights and the sounds of people talking.

You blinked, squinting until the lights no longer caused beads of tears to form at the edge of your eyes. The voices died down until only one was discernible. As your vision cleared, a woman that stood hunched over you shined a flashlight into your eyes. You flinched.

"It's alright, you're gonna be okay now. Can you tell me where you are?"

"Uhh, we're in Derry, right?"

She put her hands in the pockets of her white coat.

"Well, you're not wrong. You're at Derry's hospital, okay?" she pulled a clipboard from the table next to you, flipping through a few papers.

"What I'd love to know is  _who_  you are. Can you tell me that?"

"How'd I get here? I-I was at the park and everything looked..weird and I don't -"

"Relax, I can answer all the questions you have but first things first - seeing how you have no ID on you - you gotta tell me who you are. Can you do that?"

You sighed, settling back into the thin pillow behind you. "I'm F/N. F/N L/N. I-I think my phone's still in my bag if you need anything else. Did you, uh do you have that too?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, we just needed a confirmation." She placed the clipboard back down on the table. "I'm sure this is all very confusing, right now." She pulled a chair that sat next to the window, sitting down at your side.

"You've been missing for almost a month."

You felt goosebumps form along your whole body. How long had you been in that other place?

"We had counted you among the missing or, god forbid,  _dead_  from that freak storm we got back in May. Damaged a good portion of Derry that day, a lotta people ended up leaving soon after. We had tried recovering every body but there's still about 60 or so people missing. Looks like, you're one of the lucky ones, huh?"

"Yeah...lucky."

"Well I wouldn't feel too bad about it, you're not out of the woods yet. If it hadn't been for that cop making the rounds you would've passed from a mix of exposure and malnutrition."

You glanced at the IV tub running from your arm.

"I'd say you're due to leave in about a week." She had gotten up like she was about to leave until she stopped herself in the doorway. "Oh, and one other thing. The local police are gonna swing by sometime tomorrow, wanna ask you a couple questions. Basic stuff. Until then just take it easy, okay?"

You nodded.

Going through all this regular, mundane human stuff actually felt nice. Hearing another person felt nice. After you heard the door to your room close, you allowed a small ghost of a smile form on your lips. You had made it, and It did not. That was all that mattered to you for a while.

 

**June 2016**

That next day, the cops had come and gone. Where had you been? How did you survive the storm? Are there any other survivors? Are there any other bodies? You had answered them all as truthfully as you could, twisting said truth so as not to confuse them. What would've you told them? That an eldritch entity sent you to a world outside of our own so you wouldn't drown in a couple feet of water all while floating indistinctly through the vacuum of space? Yeah, they would've  _loved_  that.

Still, you didn't mind being asked so many questions. Hearing your own voice among others was comforting. It wasn't until now that you realized just how crushingly lonely the Void was. No wonder Pennywise, no,  _It_  was so scared when you left. You probably would've felt the same way too. Occasionally, the thought of what It was doing now would creep into the back of your mind. You weren't worried about It (why on earth would you be  _worried_  about that thing, there was no way you were worried), yet you couldn't help but think of how it was doing in the prison that was meant for you. Was it survivor's guilt? Or just plain survival? You tried not to dwell on it too much.

It wasn't long until you had become healthy enough to leave. You were sent back home with nothing but a hospital bill, though, what you once had called home was partially ruined by that storm the doctor had mentioned. Thankfully, your room had not been affected too much. There were some mildew-y water stains on some of the walls, but they were fixable for the most part.

Being back in the apartment felt odd.

As you placed the probably broken music box back on your desk, you wondered if it was a good idea to still have it in your home.  _It isn't here now, just me_ , you thought. It's not like it still worked anyway, and even then it was just an old music box. There was no harm in that.

What did bother you was sleeping. You had always had trouble with sleeping, though in hindsight, that was largely due to It infecting your dreams with its own. That was pretty bothersome. But now that it was..it was

_dead_

not on this world anymore, you would've thought that the hours you didn't spend awake would've been notably more relaxing. Then again, after an experience like that, you wondered if anything normal was possible for you. Still, you would try your best to find some respite while you dreamed.

Respite was hard when you felt those things behind your eyes. Desperately pressing forward almost painfully to be released, to be allowed to  _see._ Sometimes, if you listened closely enough, you even thought you could hear them. They would whisper and whine, but they would never scream. There were times where you swore you could feel their touch again, phantom limbs ghosting across your skin like a hesitant lover.

But those were only dreams. And a part of you hoped they would stay that way.


	13. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uhh this is it?? after like almost three months seeing red is finally over holy shit  
> also!! to anyone that's interested i made a playlist for seeing red that consists of songs that i listened to while writing it so check that out if you want: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-D3tG0RDiUvYKAzCArPTT_RnZ68Hzapf + https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-D3tG0RDiUsOJEK5a5l6KxyARw-5_wY6  
> and after this goes up im open for short requests at any time over on my tumblr @ takenbytheweeds so if you want more pennywise/reader stuff you can send me asks there!!  
> uhh i have a lot more to say but i'll leave that for the end notes

You never really allowed yourself time to think about It, and the events that transpired after meeting It.

27 years had come and gone and the best you could do was deal with it. You had tried to put your life together as best as you could, going through the motions of a regular human routine. Day in and day out you went through your days doing the usual: wake up, go to work, and spend the time you had left doing whatever you needed to do. The repetitive schedule was mind-numbing, but it gave you some sort of purpose. That routine never really gave yourself time to worry about silly things like other dimensions and the creatures that lived there. The eldritch didn't have a place in any earthly matters, and for that you were thankful.

What you  _weren't_  thankful for were the dreams.

In all honesty, you had expected them. But they were not like the vivid night terrors that had once plagued you so many years ago. There was no floating, no monsters, no flashes of a phantom in red. They were something more like faded memories of nothing in particular. As always you could never remember what was in your nightmares, but you could probably guess what you saw. You had to admit, sometimes the thought of falling asleep made an anxious knot form in your mind. And you couldn't tell why. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened in the two and a half decades since the storm, so surely there was nothing to be worried about right?

But that was just it, wasn't it? It had been 27 years, almost down to the  _day_. You would have been able to tell, though. You  _know_  you would have, just like the last time. Maybe you were just expecting - hoping - for the worst to happen. Because without It, Derry just felt empty.  _Like the sewers when I woke up that day_ , you thought. It felt like being in someone's home when that person was away. But there was another kind of emptiness that hung over you like a dead weight. Like  _you_  were missing something. Maybe that's why you never moved when practically everyone else in your neighborhood did. It almost made you feel like a relic of some forgotten time in Derry's history. You had inadvertently become one of the few people that still remembered the town's nasty underbelly that for some reason still stuck around. You almost laughed at the irony.

There had really been no reason for you to stay. You had no ties to anyone, all the family you knew had either died, moved away, or just never spoke to you. You were alone and you didn't mind. You told yourself this as you shut the medicine cabinet in your bathroom.

You hadn't done much today, and yet you managed to feel incredibly tired. For a while, you stood in front of the mirror, studying your face for a solid minute or so before making your way to the door. Before your hand could fully wrap around the handle, you heard a rattle come from the sink.

 _Must be the pipes acting up again_ , you thought. You ignored the nagging paranoia that grew in the back of your mind. Though, ignoring the feeling was difficult when the rattling was replaced by the discordant laughter of children.

You held your breath, not daring to move so much as breathe as the riotous noise filled your bathroom. A wave of ghastly nostalgia seeped into your bones as you begrudgingly turned back to face the sink. The laughter stopped. Hands shaking, you peered into the drain at the center of the basin.

"H-Hello?"

There was a pause, and for a moment you thought it was just a figment of your imagination, a side effect of your slowly aging mind. You shook the thought away. Figments of one's imagination were never just that in Derry.

"You can quit hiding, I heard you."

_nofunyou'renofunwewerejustplaying_

You sighed, leaning against the sink. "What do you want this time?"

The children were silent.

"Oh come  _on_  you didn't just stop by to say hello, did you?"

_the cycle is different itschanged_

"Yeah, well It's not exactly here anymore. Took you this long to notice?"

_not gone he is not gone he can't be gonegonegone_

"Wh-" You licked your suddenly chapped lips, hands gripping the edge of the sink. "What do you mean not gone, those people - they killed It, It's -" you attempted to keep yourself from hyperventilating.

"You don't know what you're talking about, okay? You weren't  _there_  you didn't," but you hadn't been 'there' either, not really.

_you saw him he was with you you were floating you changed_

You didn't know how, but the voices sounded closer.

_notgonenotdead in the other place macroverse he is waiting he is dreaming_

"Stop."

_not dead not on this world notourworld but there are many worlds_

" _Stop_."

_you remember youcanstillwarnthem you are not done yet yourememberyouremember_

You stumbled away from the sink, hands gripping the doorframe. "There's no one to warn, it's  _over_  okay?"

Before the voices could speak you slammed the door to the bathroom shut. You didn't, couldn't, hear any more. Not today - of all days.  _Of course something batshit weird had to happen today I should've seen it coming I should've_  - should've what? Even if you could have prepared for something like this what could you have done? Somewhere in the back of your mind knew this would happen. How could it not? You had seen It, hell you had talked with It in the

_macroverse_

Other Place for god knows how long. Of course It wasn't dead, not really. Though maybe the chances of It ever coming back to this speck of dust in the universe was slim, the thought of It still being out there somewhere frightened you. But a small, shelved away part of you felt some form of relief. No. You didn't miss It, whatever feelings you still felt had to be some remnant of whatever the two of you had years ago. It had to be.

Almost immediately, you felt a change in the atmosphere. The normally quiet Derry evening was a different kind of quiet, like the town itself was holding its breath in anticipation. You sat at the edge of your bed, head in your hands. You hadn't felt like this in a long,  _long_  time. Just when you had thought you moved on of course it decided to come back. That was how It worked, right? You weren't sure why you felt so in denial. Even if It was still alive, after all this time, there was no way It could come back right?

But even if It couldn't, that didn't change the fact that It was almost undoubtedly still alive. Of course those people back in the cistern had permanently damaged It, gotten rid of It on whatever plane of existence you inhabited, you knew that for certain. But was there a possibility that It could come back? You didn't want to think about it.

It took you hours to fall asleep.

You weren't even sure if sleep was possible after whatever had happened in your bathroom. You berated yourself for not seeing it coming until you drifted off into sleep from what was probably exhaustion. A part of you didn't want to sleep, somewhere deep in the back of your mind was still afraid of the potential to drift somewhere  _else_  while you slept. It was the one thing you remained anxious about for the rest of your life. Maybe it was just paranoia masking itself as intuition, but for people like you, intuition played a role much bigger than you would have liked.

You should have seen it coming.

As soon as you closed your eyes you felt off, like a growing restlessness that kept you awake for what felt like all night. It didn't help that not only did falling asleep had felt different, but that Derry itself felt different. You felt scared, but it wasn't the change in the vibe that scared you. It was the fact that your dream felt so foreign, but at the same time unnervingly familiar. As much as you hated to admit it, you were drifting. It had always been against your own will, and you always tried to fight against the feeling of being pulled outside your body. This time was different though, this time you let it take you.

 

The void didn't seem any different. You didn't think it was possible for it to change, if you were being honest. You were glad for the consistency though. Formless once again, you floated through the cold, infinite space.

 _Home sweet home, huh?_  you thought absentmindedly.

You didn't really expect to see anything here again, even though thus far the universe seemed hellbent on subverting your expectations. Maybe it was just you not wanting to see anything again. You never wanted any of this to begin with, it was all sort of thrown at you with the expectation that you'd be able to deal with it. Which you did, but that didn't mean you wanted to.

You weren't sure how long you had been floating when you felt a wave wash over you. At first you thought it was one of those curling, writhing beasts with skin like ichor and limbs that hungered for something shiny like you. But it wasn't. This felt different,  _better_  even. You let the wave hit you like a sunbeam, there wasn't much you could do anyway. It took you a moment longer than you needed when you realized what exactly it was that hit you. You ran your hands through the reaching, grabbing tendrils of the deadlights that propelled you further into the abyss.

For a while the two of you drifted, entangled in each other's essences like an ethereal blanket. That's if said blanket was a bundle of scared, lonely,  _hungry_  lights. You could feel the strange intensity of It's emotions still threatening to bubble over from its poor attempt to subdue them. The deadlights hummed. You didn't know how long you both had been floating, but for the majority of the time It had just been mumbling to you in that strange language It would sometimes lose itself in. It was almost endearing.

_You do realize I have no idea what you're saying, right?_

_Did you miss meee?_

_I can't believe I almost did._

_After aaaalll this time you haven't changed have you?_ _  
_

_I thought you were dead, asshole._

_Did you really think I could actually die? Were you scared for me, Y/N? Did you ca-_

_Just shut up._

A part of you had always known that It couldn't simply be beaten up by a couple middle-aged humans and have that be the end of it. Something like Pennywise -  _It_  - had always been more than the vessel that was left in the sewers to rot. A part of you had always known this. It was infinite to some extent, like the Turtle. As long as the living bundle of lights that almost possessively wrapped itself around you existed in this place, the  _macroverse_  or whatever it was called, It could never truly "die".

And even if It did, that was just on your world wasn't it? Maybe it was really, actually gone on your world, but there were many worlds.

_Okay, maybe I did. Just a little._

You didn't think the deadlights could laugh but somehow It had managed something that could've passed for a chortle that reverberated through your form.

_You're still the worst._

_You wound me, Y/N._

_Oh quit it, you barely tolerated me to begin with._

The hum of the deadlights became eerily quiet. It was too quiet for your comfort.

_You could've killed me, you know. And don't give me that 'it was too soon' crap, I know you wanted to do it._

The deadlights remained silent.

 _If you really hated me you could've just left me there. In the sewers. You didn't have to make me_  this.

If you could've gestured to your formless body of light you would have. Instead the cold glow that emanated from your voidself brightened ever so slightly, still dimmed by the bright orange lights that engulfed you.

_Why did you? The least you could do is tell me._

It still remained silent, but the gradually increasing warm hum from Its lights told you enough. It didn't need to say anything, you had a feeling you knew what It meant. You clung closer to the deadlights.

_Don't think it would've worked out anyway._

The two of you drifted aimlessly through the void, silent and infinite. You weren't sure how long you had spent but a part of you didn't care. Despite the things It did to you, and you to It - despite everything - this felt right. For the first time in 27 years you felt right. But like all things, that feeling didn't last.

It was like a tug, a pull on your voidself that you had as much control over as when you were being pulled in. You felt afraid, and by the way Its deadlights brightened you could tell It felt it too.

_Think my visiting time's up, huh?_

The deadlights desperately clung to your form, but you could feel your voidself slipping away like a wave. It made a strange swell of something akin to melancholy grow in your mind.

_Don't go not again not again I don't want you to leave I don't want to be alone I don't-_

Listen _, I don't know if this'll ever stop, hell I'm not sure if it'll ever stop even when I'm_ dead _but please just listen._

The deadlights quieted themselves as much as it could. You could still feel It trying to hold on to your being with all its strength.

_When I die, look for me. When everyone in that stupid town leaves, when all of Derry goes to shit and I have to let go for good I want you to look for me. Can you do that?_

It could have just been you, but you could have sworn that It started singing "twinkle little star". You didn't have a chance to hear a real reply before you could feel yourself enter your body again.

 

You shot upright in your bed.

You could feel your heart thundering in your chest as you tried to calm your heaving breaths. You hadn't noticed that you had been crying until you saw your puffy eyes staring back at you from the mirror that hung on the wall across from you. You were shivering as though you had just been dunked in a frozen lake, which wasn't too far off you guessed. Still, everything that had just happened felt like a distant dream no matter how crushingly real it was. You ran it all through your mind - everything It had said, everything  _you_  had said. You felt your cheeks flare up in a brief warmth.

You looked over at the clock that sat on the nightstand next to you. You felt your body go cold. It was sometime in the late afternoon. Somehow, you had spent what was essentially the whole day asleep. Though, you hadn't exactly been sleeping.

You stared blankly around your room. The walls felt small, so humanly small. The sudden shift in surroundings would've been enough to make you dissociate had you not been somewhat accustomed to the feeling. Eventually, you lifted yourself from the bed on trembling legs. It was probably not the best idea to go out, especially at a time like this, but you couldn't stand being in your home for another minute.

 

It was already getting late, the last dregs of the evening sun disappearing over the horizon of trees and hills that surrounded the town. You didn't know how you winded up in the park, but it didn't entirely surprise you. You only lived a couple blocks away from it. You took your time walking down the park's trail, taking in the sound of trees swaying in the slight breeze and the eerie absence of birdsong. It should have been calming, but you couldn't have felt farther from it.

Your skin chilled when you caught a vague shape out of the corner of your eye. It was small compared to the dumpster it sat next to, and should have been easy to miss, but the shape was a loud, bright red. You slowly turned your gaze toward the object. When the shape came into focus you released a breath you hadn't known you were holding. There was no balloon, or any other clown-related object, just a freshly discarded can of spray paint. You felt silly feeling this anxious about something so insignificant. You picked it up, absentmindedly turning it over in your hand. It felt as though it hadn't been used at all. You huffed out a sigh. As if the universe couldn't be obvious enough.

The memorial that stood in place of the standpipe was so close, and as the fading light of the sunset washed over the plaque's face, it could only have been calling to you. Of course it was.

You crouched on your knees. This was illegal at best, but then again the Derry police were never ones to care. With a shake, you popped the cap off, looking over your shoulder for any bystanders. Strangely, there was no one to be seen. Taking no time, you scrawled the most in-your-face message you could possibly come up with. A part of you doubted your warning would be of any significance - or that anyone that came across it would even understand what it meant - but there was no harm in trying. At least, with It not on earth anymore there wasn't. In the end it was a warning to anyone willing to listen, and that mattered enough.

You stood back, briefly gazing at the hastily-written "PENNYWISE LIVES" that now laid at the base of the memorial in bright red letters. You didn't think you could've been any more direct than that, but it worked for you. Either way, if anyone had an inkling of just who Pennywise was, the message would be clear enough. You tossed the paint can into the dumpster as you walked away from the park. You felt tired, more so than you felt in years. All you wanted at the moment was to be back at your home and sleep for the rest of the weekend. You had nothing else to do, so maybe you would.

As you walked away from the park and back to the road leading to your neighborhood, a small knot of worry wormed its way into the back of your mind. What if no one  _ever_  understood what it meant? The people of Derry were professionals at forgetting, so it wasn't entirely out of the question. But you didn't know why you were being so pessimistic so soon.  _You_  knew, and you would take that knowledge to the grave if you needed to. Still, you're not sure why you thought someone's ever gonna see your "warning", and maybe no one ever will. Hell, there's a slimmer chance that someone might actually take it to heart. There had to be someone out there.

But that wasn't the only thing that bothered you.

What if that really was your last time in the void?  It couldn't have been, right? As long as the deadlights still existed, you could still feel It -  _find_  It. But that was just a hope, however odd it may have been. Worst of all was that a part of you didn't know if the favor you asked of It could even be fulfilled. Still, you couldn't help but think that maybe it was possible.

You just had that feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit?? i cant believe i actually finished this monster before the year ended but it's definitely been a good ride. and to think this started out as writing practice?? working on something long term has definitely made me want to write more so look forward to that some time in the future  
> all that aside, im so so grateful for all those that followed this and read it up to the end. i don't think i would've finished it as soon without you guys as motivation so thanks a ton!!


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